When the Cuddling Isn't the Best Part
by skk670
Summary: Veronica tries to work out her feelings for Logan. It doesn't go as she planned. Re-posted from LiveJournal. Originally posted 2006. Spoilers/Warnings: 2.13 to be safe - AU after 2.04 but alludes to events in later episodes - 12 chapter total.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

Hello, this is a re-post of a story I wrote in 2005 - 2006, during season two of the original Veronica Mars television show. I removed it because I was writing a series of young adult novels and because I never finished the mystery I seeded into this story. My lovely beta, LoVe Obsessed2, convinced me to revive this story. We've edited for grammar, sentence structure and to smooth out some rough transitions but left the original contents intact.

**When the Cuddling Isn't the Best Part**

He stared at the image on his security screen with shock and amazement. He hadn't expected to see her. But then Veronica Mars didn't do the expected. He studied her image with a hungry intensity he would never let her see. Her hair was even longer now, pulled back with little barrettes on the sides, long and straight in the back. She leaned over to press the buzzer again and her denim jacket shifted, revealing a simple t-shirt. She turned to look past the iron gate, her eyes straining to see up to the house.

Logan snorted at that. She couldn't see the house from where she was. Nor could she see him in the house. That's why the gate and shrubbery were there. To protect him from nosy, intrusive, unwanted visitors like Veronica Mars.

He had no intention of letting her in. Maybe that's why he was as discomforted as she was when the gate swung open. Logan looked dumbly at his finger pressing the button controlling the gate. He looked back to the screen as she eased the LeBaron onto his property. For an instant, the urge to jab the button again, to force the gate to shut and mangle the damn car – with her in it – was almost overwhelming.

But only for an instant, the urge smothered immediately by all the other things he felt for Veronica. Love, hate, longing, regret, disappointment, resentment and need all flooded him, easily drowning out the anger. He tried to take a deep breath, suffocating on his emotions. His harsh breathing echoed in the massive, silent hall. He told himself he liked the silence, the quiet. Trina had decided early on to stay in Los Angles, to be close to daddy.

Logan snorted again as he started down the hall, the vodka bottle held loosely, comfortably, _familiarly_ in his hand. Trina didn't want to be close to daddy, she wanted to be close to Hollywood. She wanted to shop the _Trina Echolls Story_ to any sap who would be fool enough to buy it. Of course, it was Hollywood. There was a line of interested people. The Echolls's family tragedy would be ratings gold. Logan was willing to bet even Dylan Goran could make money off of this one.

He stood just inside the doorway, watching her through the frosted glass as she pulled to a stop in the courtyard. She bowed her head for a moment, as though gathering her courage. Then she straightened, her mouth firmed, her jaw clenched, the invincible Veronica Mars mask she normally sported slipping on smoothly and easily.

She was out of the car and halfway across the walk before she saw him. He knew when she saw him because her step faltered and the mask slipped, just for a second. But it was long enough for him to see what she was trying so hard to hide: love, hate, longing, regret, disappointment, resentment and need – the mirror image of his own emotions. Then the vulnerability was gone and the cold, distant Veronica – the Veronica he _hated_ – continued to walk up to his door.

She didn't knock. She simply stared at him through the glass and waited. Logan smirked and leaned against the door, more than willing to wait her out. She sighed and rapped sharply on the door. He stared at the doorknob, wondering if he was going to let her in. But then his body moved independently of his brain – again – and he turned the knob.

He had his game face on, too, when he opened the door. The cold, grating smirk was as comfortable to him as vulnerability and openness were not. He leaned in between the door and jam, the space large enough for him to be comfortable but not so great as to let her slip in. If slipping in was even her intention. Right. Veronica Mars didn't want to slip into his house, his life or his bed. She had Duncan. The memory of that evening at the Neptune Grand came back to him and he was never more grateful he'd perfected his mask years ago.

She didn't look at him. At least, she didn't look at his face. She was staring at the bottle in his hand. He stared at it, too. He had forgotten he was still holding it. He hadn't even had a chance to break the seal. Well, plenty of time for it after Ms. Veronica "I know what's best for the whole fucking world" Mars was gone.

"Drunk?" she asked tartly.

Two months of not talking to him and her first word was to question his sobriety. She should be questioning his sanity. He was insane for opening the door to her, for opening the gate to her. Hell, he was insane for having opened his heart to her.

"Not yet," he responded cheerfully.

She looked past him to the interior of the house. He ignored the subtle hint and continued to lounge in the doorway. He shifted his body slightly, blocking her view of the interior with its dusty surfaces littered with broken glass and take-out containers. After the last shitstorm, three weeks earlier, he had gone on a rampage; smashing glass, upturning furniture, ripping artwork off the walls, taking his rage out on Aaron's illusion of the perfect star's life. Now there was no one to clean up the aftermath of that destruction, to his house or to his life.

And Logan didn't care enough to do it himself, so it stayed a disaster, a constant reminder of how fucked-up his life really was.

She sighed again, the deep sigh of a person using infinite patience with a slow-witted child. "May I come in?"

"No." He grinned politely, sociably, keeping his voice light and pleasant. "But you can get the fuck off my property."

She moved quickly, suddenly, to yank the bottle out of his hand. He reached for it and she nimbly stepped around him and into the house. She stopped cold when she saw the damage. The house looked a lot different than the last time she'd visited. Gone were the ridiculously expensive animal prints, the imposing statues and pictures that screamed ART and the _nouveau riche_ furnishings. The walls were bare, or at least they would be bare if they weren't covered with the dried stains of what looked like an entire cellar of wine. The furniture was overturned and broken, the prints had been slashed and torn apart and the artwork was reduced to marbled ruins and curling canvases.

Logan yanked the bottle out of her numbed fingers and cracked the seal. "Welcome to Casa de Killer." He saluted her with the bottle and drank deeply.

Veronica walked around gingerly, looking grateful to be wearing jeans and thick-soled boots. Glass and marble crunched under her feet, the smell of fermented wine and disuse cloying in the air. She looked back at Logan. He leaned against the door, the bottle cradled protectively close to his chest, daring her to comment.

"I guess it's the maid's month off, huh?" She picked carefully through the room, stopping in the relatively unscathed hall.

"I fired the house staff last month." He walked carelessly through the chaos. "I found out every one of them was getting paid by a tabloid. I can't get anyone local to work for me and I haven't had the time to contact an agency in San Diego."

She walked across the hall to the kitchen and the family room beyond. He knew what she'd find. More of the same ruin and destruction. The remains of the house that Aaron Echolls had built. She turned back to Logan who had followed her down the hall.

"Maybe you should open some windows, air out the place," She suggested.

His mouth curled into a sneer. "Why do you even care?"

Her mouth opened just the smallest bit as her baby blue eyes softened with sadness. "Logan, you're a mess."

He sneered again. "And you're healthy and well-adjusted? Damn, Duncan must have been slipping you some of his meds while he was slipping you the good stuff. Or maybe the meds were the good stuff if that night at the Neptune Grand was any indication."

She smiled sweetly. "At least it was better than sleeping with my best friend's stepmother."

He smiled back, cold and vicious. "No, baby, it wasn't. The walls at the Neptune Grand are pretty thin. I couldn't hear a thing _coming_ next door."

"I'm not really the screaming type," she said demurely.

She didn't appear wounded by his jab and it made him angry. "You would be, if you were with me."

She raised her eyebrow, still composed. "So speaks the voice of long and varied experience, I assume?"

He clamped down on his temper with effort. Cold and bloodless responses were the only way to take down Veronica Mars.

"You know it, baby. No one's ever been anything but satisfied after being with me." His smile was merely his skin tightening, no warmth at all. "Everyone I've ever fucked has left happy."

Veronica was cool and – damn her! – she even looked amused. "I think Dick, Cassidy and their father may disagree with you."

Logan stepped back. Even though he knew it was coming, the barb hit deep. He sucked in his breath. "How long did you know?"

She flicked a glance at his face then started walking down the hall. "About two months," she called back.

Two months, right about the time she stopped acknowledging his existence. At first, after that meeting in the hallway at the Neptune Grand, they had been cold to each other, sniping only when necessary, ignoring each other the rest of the time. Then a few weeks later, Veronica started staring through him. No longer ignoring him, but not _seeing_ him. It was like he had suddenly become invisible without knowing it. Her eyes had become flat and expressionless, trained to not see him anymore.

He followed her down the hall. "How long did Beaver know? No, don't tell me. A month?"

A month later Cassidy started to respond the same way. Logan would go over to the Casablancas's house and Cassidy would quietly disappear. If Logan deliberately sought him out, Cassidy would stare at him in confused shock, as though seeing a ghost.

Then, three weeks ago, Logan went to the Casablancas's house and no one let him in. He tried calling Dick and Cassidy but neither returned his calls. He went back to the mausoleum he called home, cracked open a bottle of Absolut and waited for the shit to hit the fan.

Veronica stopped at the other end of the hall. The rest of the rooms were fine, unused and dusty, but not destroyed and defaced. "Yes, I waited as long as I could to tell him, but he kept hounding me."

He grabbed her arm to turn her to face him. "Wait. _You_ were the one who told Dick and Beaver about Kendall and me?"

She yanked her arm free. "Cassidy hired me to find the guys Kendall was banging. You were number three."

His mouth fell open. "She was banging two other guys along with me?

Veronica smirked, smug in her superiority. "She was banging _four_ other guys along with you. You were the third one I found. I tried doling out the pictures to Cassidy but he's pretty sharp. He knew there was another player and wouldn't stop badgering me about it. I think he knew it was you but didn't want to believe it until he had proof."

"The bitch!"

Veronica had the nerve to laugh. "She sure had you whipped, didn't she?"

He turned to her, his face hot with rage and humiliation. His free hand clenched into a fist. He didn't know if it was stupidity or bravado that kept her right where she was in the face of his twisting emotions. It sure as hell wasn't her trust in his sense of control. Veronica didn't trust him in the least, she never had. That bitter truth had taken him a long time to accept. Even more bitter was the lurking knowledge that he was at least partly responsible for her mistrust.

"At least I got off every time," he snarled.

"You're an eighteen-year-old boy," she responded dismissively. "You can get off watching Saturday morning cartoons."

His eyes narrowed into slits. "Is that what you use?"

For the first time, Veronica's smug demeanor wavered, her face softening into a gentle frown. "No, I used Duncan," she admitted, her voice heavy with regret.

"I'm sorry to hear it was so bad," Logan taunted.

Veronica looked down. "I really hurt him."

He laughed without humor. "You go, girl. I knew those weren't dyke boots."

Veronica lifted one foot and studied her boot. "Duncan didn't get into bondage."

Logan sucked in a sharp breath and choked on his own spit. Veronica put her foot down and waited calmly for him to recover. It took him a moment.

"He didn't like being dominated?" It was weak, he knew, but he _wanted_ to know. When had he developed masochistic tendencies?

Veronica's expression was still sad but open. "He doesn't like to dominate, it goes against his nature."

The blood was rushing out of Logan's brain so it took him a moment to respond. "How the hell did he even get you to put out for him?"

Veronica pursed her lips and really considered the question. "He was in the right place at the right time. I was just starting to put together the pieces from the bus crash and needed to feel alive." She cracked a smile. "Good thing he was home. If he hadn't been, I would have been forced to knock on doors at the Neptune Grand until somebody took me in."

_And he had been right next door. _

Of course, he had been with Kendall at the time. But if Veronica had shown up at his door wanting to fuck or, hell, even tie him up and dominate him, he would have let her. Then he wouldn't have had to go through all that time of watching them kiss and hold hands, and act sickeningly lovey-dovey. And knowing they were going to go to his hotel room and fumble-fuck for however long Duncan could keep it up. Which probably wasn't long, he thought viciously.

"Good 'ole Duncan. Accommodating as always, huh?" Logan jeered, fighting to keep the jealously out of his voice.

"Yes, he is." Veronica had the nerve to smile tenderly as she said it. "I would've been a mess if I hadn't had him these last few months." Her smile fell away. "I used him terribly."

Logan felt a wave of regret. She hadn't really wanted to fuck Duncan; she had just wanted to fuck. And if he hadn't started messing around with Kendall, actually, if he hadn't started messing around with Dick over the summer, he would have been the guy she fucked. He looked down at her boots. The image of her wearing just those boots, tying him to his own bed and ripping off his clothes, pushed every last drop of blood out of his brain. The bottle slipped out of his hand and shattered on the floor.

Veronica skipped away to avoid being splashed by the alcohol but he stayed where he was. Logan stared dumbly at the broken glass, the vodka soaking into the polished wood floor, the stains on his jeans and the erection threatening to break his zipper.

Veronica glanced down, too. "How did you ever survive being celibate all those months with me?" She gave him a hard smile. "That is, if you were celibate."

Indignation brought some blood back to his face, thank God. "I was faithful to you every Goddamn day we were together. In fact, before Kendall, I hadn't gotten laid since before my mother died."

Something flickered in Veronica's eyes at the mention of Lynn. The hard mask slipped and the sweet, generous Veronica he had fallen in love with was laid bare. Her eyes softened and her lips pursed gently.

"Logan, how are you?" she asked quietly.

"Right this second I'm hard enough to split you in two," he snarled.

Instantly regretted it. Her eyes hardened and her lips pressed together into a thin line, crushing those soft lips he'd loved kissing. The mask slipped back into place and his Veronica was gone in the blink of an eye.

He took a deep breath and tried to control his emotions. "I've been better," he said roughly.

She took a deep breath and hesitated. The mask was still in place, but she hadn't turned and left – yet.

"Has Dick spoken to you?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah. He's not pissed at all. As far as he's concerned, I did him a favor and had fun doing it."

"Did you really?" she asked, looking honestly interested in his answer. "Did you have fun?"

He hesitated before he answered. The desire to see his Veronica again, the girl behind the mask, forced him to answer honestly.

"It was never about having fun. It was about anesthetizing myself from the shit that was my life," he admitted. "It was about having somebody warm to hold on to, if only for a minute."

She gave him a small, tight smile. "A minute, huh? And here I had heard that you were some kind of marathon man. Darn, I'm so disappointed."

He turned away from her and headed for the stairs. "Veronica, I don't want to play games with you."

"Yes, you do," she said quietly. "You've always played games with me; sometimes to hurt me, other times to distract me. Was there ever a time you enjoyed playing those games?"

"It was never a game," he insisted. "I was always serious, during the good times and the bad."

He stopped at the first step and turned around. She was right behind him. For a girl wearing storm trooper boots, she was surprisingly quick and quiet.

She stepped onto the staircase then took another step so they were eye-to-eye. "Tell me, when you were with Kendall, what did you see when you closed your eyes?"

His jaw was rigid and he refused to answer. She looked down at his straining fly then back to his eyes.

"Who will you think of when you go upstairs and take yourself in hand?"

This girl in front of him was not his Veronica. His Veronica was gentle and a bit shy. His Veronica had been nervous the first time he had kissed her breasts and suckled her nipples. She had a sheen of sweat on her upper lip and shaky fingers when she pushed his hands out from under her skirt. This girl was brittle and smug, confident in her sense of superiority.

"Do you like watching Duncan jerk off?" he asked her harshly.

"I've never seen Duncan jerk off." She opened he mouth to say more, but apparently thought better of it and closed her mouth.

He'd never learned that restraint. He leaned in closer to her. "What else were you going to say?"

Without answering, she used the tip of her finger to trace his mouth. Before he could stop himself, his lips puckered. Veronica stared at his puckered lips for a few seconds then pressed her own lips to his in a gentle, chaste kiss. Then she turned and walked calmly up the steps. He stood where she left him, dumbstruck for a moment, before he recovered enough to follow her.

She went directly into his bedroom. There was no destruction here, only the day-to-day living of a boy used to others cleaning up his messes. Maybe if he'd learned to pick up his own shit, his life wouldn't be the wreck it was now. Who was he kidding? This house could be spotless and his life would still be hell. She studied the unmade bed and clothes, shoes and grooming supplies strewn around the room then turned back to him.

"You do know that, no matter how long you wait, this stuff isn't going to put itself away, don't you?" Her voice was tart, but not condemning.

"I'll call a maid service when I have time," he growled. "Now get the hell out of my bedroom."

Veronica crossed the room to his bed and started fluffing the pillows. "I'm sure a bed seems kind of pedestrian to a boy of your vast experience but I like comfort." She finished with the pillows and turned around.

He stood in the doorway, mouth open with shock. Had she just said what he thought she had said?

Veronica frowned at him. "Do you have condoms?"

He gripped the door for support. "What?"

"Condoms. You know, typically used during intercourse to avoid disease and pregnancy? They showed us the video back in sixth grade. Did you skip class that day, too?" she quipped. Then her expression tightened, her eyes darkening. "You do use condoms, don't you?"

"Hell, yes, I use condoms." He would have glared at her if she wasn't actually here, sitting on his bed, asking about a square of foil that could be the key to making his favorite fuck dream come to life. He forced his voice to soften. "I'm not stupid enough to fuck without them."

She looked relieved, her mouth relaxing. "Good, where are they?"

He nodded to his bedside table. Veronica opened the drawer and took out the box. She opened the top and nodded. The she started rooting around in the drawer again. "Where's the lube?"

Logan finally got his brain in gear again. He crossed the room to her. "You won't need lube," he growled.

She rolled her eyes at him. "You may not have noticed, but I'm a little smaller than you."

"You won't need lube." He growled again.

Veronica looked uncertain and, for a moment, his Veronica reemerged, shy and vulnerable. She bit her lower lip and he could see her visibly force the mask back into place.

"It's not a knock against your prowess but rather a compliment to your size," she said in that fake-sweet voice. But _his_ Veronica was still lurking in those big blue eyes.

Then he finally understood. It was true, guys could only think with one head at a time. And, from the moment she showed up at his gate, he had been thinking with the wrong one. Veronica was here, she'd come to _him_, expecting a battle. She had risked the rejection of coming here, expecting to fight him for _sex_, thinking he wouldn't want her. And he was fighting with her! What kind of idiot was he, pushing her away when she wanted to fuck him?

The hard shell was there to protect the real Veronica, still shy, wounded and vulnerable, from his rejection. She wasn't trying to piss him off. _How sick was that knowing that she could get him off with just that sharp, biting tongue?_ Nor was she trying to rub his face in her new experience. She didn't think being Veronica was enough. The shell was her way of enticing him, being the brittle, sexually self-confident woman she thought he wanted.

To try to be the kind of woman Kendall was and that the real Veronica wasn't.

And every muscle in his body relaxed, except one. "You know, you could have saved yourself a lot of trouble." he began conversationally.

All this wasn't necessary. There was no way he would reject his Veronica. All she had to do was smile and say 'please' and he would be on her like white on rice. Hell, she didn't even have to say 'please'.

Veronica blinked and the vulnerability left her eyes. Her mouth turned up in a cool smile that did nothing to warm her now icy eyes. She sat down on his bed and crossed her legs. She leaned back on her hands and swung her booted foot.

"Really?" she drawled. "How?"

He frowned as he watched his Veronica slip back behind the protection of the cold mask. She did it instantly, instinctively. He sat down beside her and saw the pulse beat visibly at the base of her neck. She was anxious but hid it with her cold smile as she turned to look at him.

"Wow, Logan, you're speechless. I wish I had known sooner that this was a sure-fire way to get you to shut up." Her voice became sharp enough to draw blood. "I could really have used it last year. No wait. I couldn't have because me using it was all you talked about."

"Your reserves must be getting pretty low if you have to dig that far back for ammunition." He deliberately leaned into her to shut the dresser drawer. She drew her breath in a soft gasp and leaned back a little.

But her voice – dammit – was still cool and amused as she bit out, "Sweetie, it's your reserves we need to worry about now. I'm expecting a lot from you."

"Don't worry, I'll deliver." He looked at her with honest eyes, willing back the jackass that always wanted to leap out before him.

"We'll see." She pulled away and made a show of making herself comfortable against the pillows.

He stared at her for a moment then pulled off his outer shirt. Veronica hesitated for just a brief second then took off her jacket. He crossed his arms over his abs and pulled off his t-shirt. Again she hesitated for a brief second before she untucked her shirt and drew it over her head.

The neckline caught in her barrettes and she had to work her hair free. He stared at her breasts, encased in a pink cotton bra, and watched as her nipples react to the cold and his stare by pushing against the cotton in sharp little points. She finally pulled the shirt completely off and threw it aside. She gave him a wry smile.

"Note for the future," she said with a little laugh. "Remove hair accessories before shirt."

He didn't laugh back. "I'll remind you," he said seriously.

She stared at him, discomfited, then that hateful smile came back. "Ooh, I've never had my own walking, talking dictation service before. I usually just leave reminders on my phone."

Logan wanted to take her in his arms and reassure her that this ploy wasn't necessary. But he knew she wouldn't believe him and he was terrified that she would leave. So he decided to let her play her game and simply not respond to her barbs. He looked down as he toed off his sneakers.

Veronica pouted. "No fair. I have boots. They don't come off easily."

He turned to her, caught her leg and worked off the boot. He threw it over his shoulder and it made a satisfying thump as it fell somewhere far away. He pulled off the other boot and threw it over to the other side of the bed. He looked directly into her eyes as he reached under her pant leg to pull off her sock. She swallowed visibly but held his gaze as he removed and threw away her socks.

He rose up on his knees in the center of his bed to unbutton and unzip his jeans. She took a deep breath before struggling onto her knees and mimicking his moves. He hooked his thumbs into his waistband and pushed the jeans down. His jeans were loose and baggy and slid down easily. Her jeans were tighter and she had to wiggle a bit to get them down. He rolled onto his ass and kicked off his jeans then reached for the hem of hers to pull them off.

She wasn't expecting that and lost her balance, pitching forward into his lap. She blushed a deep pink that put her pink bra and matching panties to shame. She scrambled out of his lap and fought to regain her composure.

"That wasn't nice," she pouted again. "I could have gotten hurt." She smiled and nodded at his tented boxers. "Or worse, I could have hurt you."

"You can hurt me any way you want, Veronica," he said and knew it was true. She could and he would let her. He would let her get away with almost anything if it kept her in his bed.

She blinked, uncertain for a second, then pressed her lips together. She reached up and unclipped the barrettes then shook her head. It was such a sweet and girlish thing for her to do and it made his cock jerk. She leaned over and dropped the barrettes on his bedside table. The action stretched out her lovely lean body, her pearlescent skin glowing warm in the sun. His cock jerked again at the sight. Instinctively he reached down and grabbed his errant cock, praying that he wouldn't humiliate himself for their first time.

She looked over, smirked and reached for the waistband of his boxers. "Now, let's see what we have here."

He raised his hips off the bed so she could slide off his boxers. She straddled his lap and took his penis in her hands. He was sorry that she had taken out the barrettes because her long blond hair fell forward and hid her face. He stared at the ceiling and counted back from one hundred as he endured her soft, inquisitive fingers.

"Logan, are you okay?" she asked quietly and, for a moment, his Veronica came out from behind the mask.

He nodded wordlessly, entranced by her beautiful soft features. This was the face he saw every time he fisted himself, every time he fucked Kendall and every time he closed his eyes. He leaned forward to kiss the soft pink lips he remembered so well. She kissed him back lightly but when his tongue licked at her lower lip, she pulled back. He looked at her in confusion but she was looking down at his lap.

"You better be telling the truth about those reserves or I'm going to be one very unhappy girl." Her voice was high and brittle, unknowingly betraying her nervousness.

He took deep breaths to calm himself, to keep from saying anything that might spook her. She flicked her thumb rapidly over the tip, spreading the pre-cum, using both hands to slide from tip to base, then back up. His breath strangled him as he tried to tell her that this wasn't the way he wanted. One more firm slide from those soft warm hands and he erupted.

She puckered her mouth as she looked at her hands and his lap. "You wouldn't happen to have a box of tissues nearby, would you?"

He moaned softly in response. Dammit, he'd failed. It was their first time and he'd failed her. What was wrong with him? Fucking was the one thing he was supposed to do right. He slumped back onto the bed and threw his arm over his eyes. She sighed and climbed out of his lap. He dragged his arm away from his eyes and watched her walk into the bathroom. Her hips swayed gently and her tight ass mesmerized him as he watched her walk away. He heard water running and she came out a moment later, washcloth in hand.

She was still wearing her pink bra and panties. For some reason, she looked innocent, almost angelic in them. She was all pink and blond with her fair hair, fair skin, pink lips, pink blush and pink underwear. The only other color was her cool blue eyes. Cool. Dammit. He wanted them warm, like when they made out in the back of his X-terra or sparkling like when they used to make out in the bathroom, like they'd been, before his whole life was shot to hell.

She leaned over and gave him a quick wipe with the warm washcloth. She turned to go back to the bathroom and he lunged for her. He caught her arm and dragged her down on the bed beside him.

"I was just going to rinse off the washcloth. You don't have to be so rough with me," she protested.

That brought him out of his fuck daze instantly. "I didn't mean to be rough. I just want you to stay with me."

She shrugged and dropped the washcloth over the side of the bed. She smiled at him, the brittle smile again. "For the record, I'm not the submissive type. I prefer to wear the boots."

He sighed. "So, I guess that means I'm the one who gets tied to the bed and has the shit whipped out of him."

Veronica gasped and stared at him with horrified eyes. He blinked and his whole body blushed crimson as he remembered Veronica knew the truth.

"No," she said with a shaky voice. "It was a joke. I don't get into bondage or pain." She scrambled up to her knees.

"I was kidding, too," he said gently and sat up.

He hadn't intended to upset her, but he had. The mask was completely gone now and his vulnerable Veronica stared back at him. He cupped her chin in his hand and stroked her cheek with his fingers. He leaned forward to kiss her but she turned her head, rubbing her cheek into his hand. He brought his other hand up to cup the other side of her face. Her eyes fluttered shut as she continued to soothe herself by rubbing her cheeks against his hands.

He shifted his hands to still her movements and tilt her head for his kiss. Her eyes popped open, warm and slightly unfocused. He smiled and touched his lips to hers. He licked the delicate seam of her lips and she pulled away. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, her hands sweeping down from his neck to run almost compulsively over his back.

He nuzzled her neck and breathed in her sweet, familiar scent. "Veronica, I'm okay. It's over now."

He felt her nod but her hands were still running over his back and shoulders. Finally, she took a deep breath and pulled away from him. She gave him that cool smile he hated.

The mask had snapped back into place.

She ran her hands over his arms and shoulders. "You've been working out." She brought her hands down to his chest and rubbed his nipples with her palms. "Very nice."

"I'm glad you approve," he muttered.

She laughed and released him. She settled against the pillows again and looked at him from under her lashes. "So," she drawled. "What should we do while we wait for you to…recover?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm recovered."

She glanced at his lap. "Not enough for me."

Fury pushed the blood into his face, compounding the problem. "I've been in gym class with Duncan. Believe me, I know it's enough for you."

Her eyes went cold. "How about we leave each other's pasts out of this?"

"Can't," he taunted. "You know what they say. 'Every time you sleep with a person, you sleep with everyone they've ever slept with'."

She arched her eyebrow. "Your side of the bed is considerable more crowded than mine."

"That's because I was willing to put in the time and effort to become really good."

She smirked and relaxed into the pillows. "Quantity and quality are not the same thing, Logan."

He crowded her into the pillows. "Is that why you were with Duncan? You wanted quantity over quality?"

She had the nerve to laugh at him. "I was with Duncan because I wanted _quality_ over quantity." She leaned forward, not the least bit intimidated. "I can rest assured that a year from now Duncan will still remember that we had a relationship."

That stung. "And you think I won't remember you?"

"Quick, Logan. Name the last girl you slept with before Kendall."

He stared at her, momentarily confused. Before Kendall, before Veronica, before the day at the Camelot, before his mother died, before…

Veronica laughed harshly and interrupted his train of thought. "See? Duncan will never have that blank look on his face. He'll always remember my name."

"Congratulations," he snapped. "If being memorable is so damn important to you, why are you here with me?"

"Maybe I want to be with you at least once before you completely self-destruct."

"And whose fault is that, Veronica?"

She sighed. "Pretty much all the circumstances of your life, Logan."

She reached over and ran her fingers through his hair. His eyes fell shut as though weighted. Her fingers were warm and gentle and the truest affection he had had since…since that night she broke up with him. His eyes snapped open. She wasn't here because she wanted to give or have true affection. She was here because she wanted to get laid by the experienced slut, Logan Echolls. If she was only here to get laid, who was he to deny her?

He caught her leg and pulled her down so that she was lying flat on the bed. Deliberately he cupped the back of her knees and pulled her legs wide. He settled between her thighs, his recovering cock pressed against her panties. He frowned as he snuggled in deeper. Her panties were warm but not wet. It appeared that Logan Echolls wasn't doing it for Veronica Mars. At least, not yet.

His head dropped to her neck and bit her pulse point. Veronica gasped and her pulse began to throb. He remembered how her heart would race and her breathing would become ragged when he bit her neck and tweaked her nipples. He reached into her bra cups and started pinching and pulling her nipples, not roughly but not gently either.

Her breathing became harsher and she lifted her hips, rubbing against his hardening cock. Her short, rounded fingernails dug into his back and the anger drained out of him. He remembered this, the rising heat, the faint scent of her arousal, the feeling of warmth and satisfaction and – God dammit – _love_ he felt without even being inside her body.

She was wrong, he would never forget being with Veronica Mars. It was one of the indelible images in his mind, like the image of his mother's body splashing into the water on that damn freshman's video. That kiss at the Camelot was a turning point in his life.

Veronica breaking up with him had been the next one.

His rage at that came back and he tore his mouth away from her throat. He pushed up off her body. "Damn you! Why the fuck did you leave me?"

She looked confused and aroused. She blinked a couple of times and stared at him. "Because you were hell-bent on destroying yourself and I couldn't stop you. I didn't want to be destroyed along with you."

"So why are you here now?"

"I'm better able to cope with you now." Her voice was quiet, admitting the simple truth.

"Is that what Duncan was for you? Training wheels?" No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep the snarl out of his voice.

"And what was Kendall for you? A warm blanket to hide under?" Her anger was just as apparent.

"Nothing about Kendall was warm, except her body."

"But that's all you wanted from her, right?"

"Yeah." His arms shook from the strain of holding himself above her. Or at least that's what he told himself.

"Well, I got what I wanted from Duncan in the same way."

"Not in the same fucking way. I wasn't screwing Kendall because I was too afraid to be with the person I really wanted."

"I really wanted to be with Duncan."

It felt like she'd slapped his face. He rolled off her, turning his back to her. There was only the sound of their ragged breathing for a moment.

Then she sighed and spoke softly. "Duncan was unfinished business. I know it's hard to remember, but you had decided to end things with Lilly the day she died. You had closure on your relationship. Duncan and I never got closure. It was like having a wound that couldn't scab over and heal. We needed to finish our relationship."

He stared at the wall. "So, is it finished now?"

"Of course, it is," she snapped. "I wouldn't be here with you if I was still with Duncan."

She sounded insulted, which made sense. Veronica wasn't a cheater. Kendall was a cheater, Lilly was a cheater and Caitlin was a cheater. Caitlin. That was the girl before Kendall. Of course, a decade from now, he wouldn't remember either Kendall or Caitlin. But he'd still remember Lilly, his first love, cold-hearted bitch that she had been. And he'd still remember Veronica, his true love, the one he still dreamt about. If he was still alive a decade from now, that is.

He turned back to her. "So what are we doing here, Veronica?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm trying to get laid," she responded tartly. "I'm not having much success with it."

"Don't worry, you'll score. I'm a sure thing." He meant to sound sarcastic but it just came out sounding sad.

"So I've heard."

Another dig. He took a deep breath and tried to ignore it. He sat up then pulled her to a sitting position, too. She raised her eyebrow and looked at him questioningly. It irritated him that she looked so unaffected by being in his bed. Her hair was more mussed from undressing than from him and the pulse at her throat had settled back to its usual rhythm. He reached around her for her bra clasp.

She looked over her shoulder. "Do you need help?" she asked in that fake-sweet voice.

He pulled the ends apart and slid the straps down her shoulder. "No thanks, I've got it."

He was going to meet her gaze and smile coolly but the sight of her breasts distracted him. The pale pink nipples tightened into hard points and her firm breasts bobbed with her every breath. He used his knuckle to caress her nipple while he threw her bra as far away from the bed as he could. Once his hand was free, he cupped both breasts. He rolled the tips between his fingers and thumbs then pulled and pinched them again. She gasped and he smiled. Veronica had very sensitive breasts. He was sure that, given a little time and training, he could make her come just by fondling her breasts alone.

He looked up into her eyes but she had bent her head, her long blond hair hiding both her face and her reaction. But he already knew how she reacted to him playing with her breasts. As he knew it would, he watched her tongue dart out to wet her lower lip. He was rock hard now, his blood throbbing in his veins, demanding the kisses Veronica used to give him along with the rush. He ducked his head and swooped for her mouth, careful not to increase the pressure on her nipples.

She pulled her head away when his lips touched hers. Her eyes had fallen shut but snapped open. She frowned at him and shook her head.

"What?" he demanded.

She pushed his hands away and settled against the pillows again. "Kiss my breasts," she ordered.

His eyes narrowed. "I don't take orders."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. Would you please, if it's not too much trouble, kiss my breasts, Logan?"

"That's better," he muttered and bent down to suck her nipple.

She buried her fingers in his hair and sighed. "No, _this_ is much better."


	2. Chapter 2

**When the Cuddling Isn't the Best Part **

**(Part II)**

Logan dragged the flat of his tongue over her nipple then pulled back to admire his handiwork. The combination of cool and wet tightened the tip even more. He carefully tongued around the hard little pebble then blew on it. Veronica arched sharply into his mouth as she hissed out her breath. Her fingers dug into his scalp.

"Easy there, princess," he murmured. "You don't want to damage anything you might want to use in the future."

Her fingers tightened even more. "Don't worry, Logan," she responded coolly. "The only thing I could possibly damage is your brain and we both know you don't use it that much."

He jerked his head away from her breast. "As the clothes come off, the claws come out," he taunted.

"Well, one of us has to unsheathe something useful." She retorted.

He pushed off her body. "Are you going to insult me the whole time we're in bed?" he demanded.

"Ask yourself that question," she snapped.

"You're the one who wanted to do this."

She put her hands to his chest and tried to push him away. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was forcing myself on you. I'll go now." She pushed again but he refused to budge.

"No," he snarled, frustration and lust glowing in his deep hazel eyes. "You'll _come_ now."

He bent his arms and dropped his weight onto her body. She set her jaw stubbornly and struggled. Anger flushed her cheeks and made her eyes sparkle. Ahh, _here_ was the real Veronica, the girl who planted bongs in his locker and sicced Weevil on him.

He preferred Warrior Veronica to the cold and brittle girl who had sashayed into his bedroom. And he certainly preferred her over the saccharine sweet kewpie doll who had hung on Duncan's arm for the past few months. Hell, he ever preferred her over the wide-eyed supportive girlfriend who had tried to shield him from his own destructive tendencies.

_God, he was sick. She really _was_ going to get him off by pissing him off._

"Let. Me. Go." She spoke slowly and clearly through her gritted teeth.

"No." Logan studied her calmly and smiled that smirk he knew would only piss her off more. "No more running away, Veronica. You're staying here until we work this out, even if I have to tie you to the bed."

She continued to struggle. "I already told you, I'm not the submissive type."

"But, Veronica, you can't dominate unless you stay." He swooped down for her mouth but she angrily turned her head away. He frowned and tried to root out her mouth. She turned her head the other way.

"Kiss me, Veronica," he growled.

"No." She glared back at him defiantly. "We're having sex, Logan, not a relationship."

He recoiled. That hurt. That hurt _badly_. "Sorry, I'm not doing meaningless sex anymore," he spat out.

She pouted. "Darn. I guess that means I won't get to have the great Logan Echolls."

The pout was adorable but the words accompanying it weren't. They both knew how to draw blood from the other. They'd spent too much time practicing. Time they should have spent on other things, like how to learn to be together as well as how they learned to tear each other apart.

"Oh, you'll get me, alright, but you're going to have to keep me."

"Sorry," she said dismissively. "I'm not interested in a long-term purchase or even a short-term lease."

"You little cunt," he snarled.

As soon as the words came out, he regretted them. His goal was to calm her down, not piss her off. The instinct to protect himself was ingrained. She took the blow like the fighter she was.

"Hence the need for lube." She stopped struggling and smirked at him. The little witch obviously thought she was back in control.

"No lube, Veronica." He ground against the damp panel of her panties. "You're wet now. Fighting with me for one minute does a lot more for you then a session with the Donut, huh, Veronica?"

Her mouth dropped open and she renewed her struggles. Logan relaxed and allowed his body weight to sink her into the mattress. He really liked having an almost-naked Veronica Mars wiggling beneath him. _Really_ liked it. The only thing that could make it better was having her completely naked. Right. That was the second item on his agenda, after he calmed down his little wildcat.

He leaned down to nuzzle her breasts. She pressed both of her small hands against his forehead to push him away. "No," she snarled. "You do not get to treat me like this, not anymore."

He scowled. "Like what?"

"Like I'm just some random fuck."

"But isn't that why you came here, Veronica?" he taunted.

She froze. He watched her struggle behind the mask again. Then she nodded. "Yeah, you're right. That's what I came here for." Slowly her hands shifted away from him and settled on the bed at her sides. She forced her body to relax and gave him a brittle smile. "Carry on."

_Shit._ This was not how he wanted her to relax. And if she thought they were only going to have mindless, _empty_ sex, then she was in for a hell of a shock. Fortunately, he knew a lot about Veronica Mars and how to get her hot. He had honed his skills after months of making out with her and fondling her in bathrooms, his backset, her backseat _(cramped!)_, this bed and on one glorious occasion, her waterbed.

He lowered his head to her neck and kissed and sucked her pulse point gently. The tempo of her breathing immediately disrupted. He strung tiny, biting kisses as he slid across her neck and around to the other pulse point. Then he bent his head and slid down to her breast.

He took her nipple into his mouth and sucked on it. She gasped and shuddered. Instinctively he knew the right pressure for her tender nipple. He had developed a distinctive ear for Veronica's pain or pleasure moans over their summer together. On cue, she began to moan in the back of her throat, a low, continuous sound that could be as soft as a well-cuddled kitten's purr or as strong as a well-tuned Italian motorbike's rumble, depending on how gentle or aggressive he was with her breasts.

He released her nipple before she could get a steady purr going. She whimpered in disappointment and he smiled as he ran his tongue down the slope of her breast, and up the curve of the other one. This time, he bit the nipple gently and pulled it with his teeth. She whimpered again and tried to rub against him but he held her slight body down with his weight.

"Logan, I need to move," she whispered.

He shifted one leg out from between hers and moved his weight to his bent arms. But he left his other leg between her thighs, keeping her legs splayed. She scrambled for purchase in the awkward position. Then her slim hips rose and she ground against him, her thrusts perfectly timed to his pulls against her nipple. And his kitten began to purr again.

Her arms swept out, across the sheets and along the headboard, trying to find something to hold on to. Logan released her nipple and her eyes fluttered open. He looked straight into her wild blue eyes.

"Me, Veronica," he ground out. "Hold on to _me_."

And never let go, his heart pleaded, but he kept those words back, for now. The only thing that would spook her worse than his hateful barbs was his desperate need for her. In fact, the barbs were probably comforting, since she was used to him spewing those at her. He stilled, waiting for her response.

She looked back at him, blue eyes now carefully blank and wrapped her small hands around his biceps. He looked at her and growled. No way, _no fucking way_ was he going to let her get away with treating this, treating _him_, like it didn't matter. As of now, this very minute, the world was done using Logan Echolls. From now on, he was going to be a force to be reckoned with.

He was through with being used. His father had used him to further his "family man" image. His mother had used him as a shield against his psychotic father. Every woman he had every slept with used him for his image, whether it was "movie star's son" or "that boy who killed that biker". Well, no more. From now on, when people took from Logan Echolls, they were going to give back.

And the first person who was going to understand that was Veronica Mars.

He dropped his head back to her breast and took her nipple again. He sucked on it steadily, strongly, _hard_. Veronica thrashed beneath him, her gasps for breath timed to his pulls, her fingers digging deeper into his arms as she thrust against his leg and got closer and closer…

Her body went rigid and her mouth opened in a soundless scream. She released his arms, her head lolled to the side and her whole body relaxed.

Logan stopped sucking and stared at her half-hidden face. Veronica had been telling the truth. She really wasn't the type to scream. But it was only her first time with him. He'd have her screaming soon enough. He shifted to settle between her legs and slid his hands up her thighs. His cock throbbed painfully and it didn't help any when he stroked the wet panel of her panties. He grabbed the elastic waistband and tried to pull them off but Veronica's legs were spread wide and he wasn't about to give up his place between them for even a moment. So, he did the only thing he could do. He tore them off.

Veronica weakly turned her head at the sound of splitting stitches. "Hey," she said faintly. "Those were nice."

He grinned. "They still are." He shoved the ruined underwear under the pillows and past the edge of his bed, then stuffed it into the crack between his mattress and headboard. It wasn't like _she_ was going to be able to use them again.

His grin faded as he looked down at her pubic curls and the little bud peeking out. A jolt went through him. Of course, more pink and blond. He reached into those blond curls and carefully drew her open and she winced. He frowned up at her face but she had turned her head away again. He stroked his fingers gently along the glistening pink tissue and Veronica hissed again.

"Sore?" he asked.

"Sensitive." She looked back at him, her eyes at half-mast, almost slumberous.

Abruptly he let her go and lunged over her. She recoiled, startled. He froze in mid-reach and stared at her.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he stated flatly.

She smiled weakly. "Oh, I think we can hurt each other pretty badly." She said matter-of-factly.

And that was the truth.

He reached slowly for the condom box on the table and upended the box onto the pillow beside her head. She turned her head to watch the packets cascade down onto the bed. Then she turned back to look at him.

"Ambitious?" she asked in the fake-sweet voice.

"I know my limitations."

She looked again at the small pile and pursed her lips. "Judging from this, you don't have limitations."

"Only our imaginations, sweetheart."

"A little full of yourself, huh?" she observed tartly.

He smirked at her as he ripped open a packet. He held her gaze as he slid his middle finger into her body. "In another minute, you're going to be full of me, too."

Veronica gasped but he didn't know if it was a response to his taunt or to the finger working into her. He watched her face for any signs of discomfort or pain. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes soft, offering no resistance. He carefully inserted a second finger. She was still relaxed so he separated his fingers and felt the resistance of strong, supple muscles. He drew out of her and held up his glistening fingers.

"See, no need for lube," he said smugly.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Are you going to keep saying 'I told you so' the entire time?" she demanded.

"Nope. I'm mature enough to be satisfied with only one time."

"Well, I'm not. If you think I'm going to be satisfied with just once, you'd better think again. I'm expecting fireworks from you, Logan," she smiled smugly. "After all, you're an expert."

He laughed without humor. "Cute, Veronica. Don't worry, you'll be more than satisfied."

He deliberately wiped his fingers, slippery with her cum, along his cock to lubricate it after rolling on the rubber. Her eyes were wide as she watched him. He held her gaze as he settled against her.

"Take me in, Veronica," he said quietly, trying not to make it sound like a plea.

She ran her hands over his chest and across his belly, leaving a trail of goose bumps in her wake. He gritted his teeth when she finally took his cock and aligned him against herself. They both held their breath as he slid inside her, inch by precious inch.

She was incredibly tight and wiggled a bit to accommodate him as he steadily, relentlessly slid deeper. She sighed and relaxed as he finally bottomed out. She smiled at him mistily.

"How's that?" he growled. "Enough for you? Or did Duncan give you more?"

Her face drained of color and her mouth fell open She looked as though he had slapped her. Hell, he wanted to slap _himself_ as the misty warmth in her face dissolved and the mask slammed back into place.

"Don't ask and I won't tell you anything you don't want to hear," she said, her voice cold enough to freeze his dick, if it wasn't already buried inside her warm body.

"Fine," he snarled, angrier with himself than with her.

Shit. Where the hell was his self-control? He was fucking her and he still couldn't stop fucking _with_ her. He was lucky she hadn't bent him double and stormed out of his bed. He started to pull out, slowly but steadily and her eyes watched him warily. He gave her a brief, wobbly smile and she relaxed a bit. When no more insults came out of his mouth, she relaxed fully and her eyes fluttered shut again.

Logan moved inside her with excruciating care. He looked down to watch himself. Man, pulling out was almost as enjoyable as pushing in, except for the panicky feeling that if he pulled out completely, he'd never be allowed back in again. He stopped when only the tip was still inside her and slid back in. Carefully, he repeated the process.

It was killing him to go so slowly but she was _so_ tight. He wanted to think it was because he was so much bigger than Duncan, but logically he knew it was because she was so tiny. Damn. Duncan should never have been inside her, the prick had no clue how to take care of her. As far as he knew, they had only been with each other. How the hell were two virgins supposed to take care of each other?

He looked at her face. Her eyes were tightly closed, her face was flushed pink and her lips were curved up in a smile. She was purring again, but very softly. Her hands slid up his arms and down his chest. She rubbed his nipples and tilted her hips, rising languidly to meet his gentle thrusts.

"Veronica, open your eyes," he murmured.

Her smile deepened and her hands swept along his abs but her eyes stayed shut. Whatever – _whoever_ – she was thinking about was a whole hell of a lot more pleasing than looking at him. And that burned him.

"Veronica," he growled. "Open your eyes, dammit!"

Her eyes popped open and her body stilled. She blinked rapidly and her far-away dreamy expression melted back into cool disdain.

"They're open," she snapped. "Satisfied?"

No.

Nor was she going to be if the stiffening of her body was any indication. His eyes narrowed into slits as he stilled inside of her. If she was thinking of Duncan he was going to…to…what? What was he going to do?

He tightened his hips and began to thrust harder and faster. If she was still thinking about Duncan, then Logan was going to pound him out of her. Veronica gasped at the new pace. It took her a few thrusts before she was able to meet his hips smoothly with her own. Her eyes fluttered shut and she relaxed into his rhythm.

The color came back to her cheeks and the smile curved her mouth again. Her hands slid back up his arms and settled back into the curves of his biceps. And he hated it. She should have her eyes open and be focused on him, dammit. He wasn't going to let her pretend to be in bed with anyone else.

"Can you feel me stretching you, Veronica?" he growled.

"Yes, Logan."

To his surprise, her voice was soft and dreamy and her smile didn't waiver. So, she was still with him. But she didn't open her eyes.

His voice dropped, becoming deeper and rougher. "Do you like the way I'm dragging against your clit, Veronica?" He slowed his thrusts, the furious pounding easing back into relaxed strokes.

"Yes, Logan."

"Do you like this pace, Veronica?"

"Mmm, yes, Logan."

He lowered his body so his chest could press into her breasts and his forehead could press against hers.

"Do you like it when I rub your breasts with my chest, Veronica?"

"Yes, Logan."

"Do you like the way I feel on top of you, Veronica?" he whispered roughly.

"Ohh, yes, Logan."

Her soft, dreamy voice and passion-dewy face were doing it for him. Not to mention her tight body and the fingernails digging into his arms. He had a strong aversion to pain, given his past, but when Veronica did it, it only translated into pleasure. His balls tightened, and he knew he couldn't hold out much longer.

But Veronica wasn't there yet, dammit.

"Dammit," he snarled out loud.

Veronica's eyes popped open and her body froze. The sudden tightening of her inner muscles pushed him over the edge. He scrunched his eyes shut and got in a few weak thrusts, knowing that she wasn't going over with him. He finally collapsed onto her body and gasped with defeat.

For a moment there was only the sound of their gasps then the heavy silence. Veronica ran her fingers hesitantly up his arms, across his shoulder and into his hair. She had barely finished the first stroke before he pushed away and pulled out of her. She looked confused as he rolled off the bed and stumbled into the bathroom.

He got rid of the condom and turned on the water, trying to regroup as he splashed his face. He reached for a towel but there wasn't one there. Of course, there was no one here to do laundry. Logan didn't have the faintest idea how to do laundry or even where the fucking laundry room _was_. He wasted a precious moment hunting out a semi-clean washcloth and hurriedly dried his hands and face.

What the hell was the matter with him? After this performance she probably couldn't run fast enough back to Duncan. He was sure that Duncan wasn't that great but he probably waited for Veronica to come.

Duncan had always been polite about letting ladies go first.

Humiliation, anger and jealously brewed in Logan's gut and he stalked back into the bedroom. Veronica had already put on her bra and t-shirt and was picking her jeans off the floor when he grabbed her arm and turned her to face him.

"Who were you seeing when you closed your eyes?" he demanded.

Her mouth thinned stubbornly and she shook off his hand.

"Tell me," he snarled. "You were in bed with me. You were supposed to focus on _me_."

"Ohh," she returned tauntingly. "Did you get that bit of wisdom from _The Joy of Sex_ or did Kendall try to feed you that bullshit?"

The blood pounded into his face and he curled his hands into fists. "It doesn't matter because when I was in bed with her, I was thinking of you."

What the _fuck_ caused him to spill that bit of information? It was fucking _pathetic_ how fucked up he was on Veronica Mars.

She looked at him with sadness but not pity. "I know," she admitted softly.

He froze. "Did you ever think of me when you were with Duncan?" he demanded. He sounded so hopeful. Pathetic, pathetic, _pathetic_.

She hesitated before she shook her head slowly. "No. I thought of Duncan when I was with Duncan."

He shuddered with the force of his disappointment. He locked his jaw and forced himself to ask. "Then what made you come here, to me, now?"

"Because I thought of you every second I wasn't with Duncan," she admitted softly.

"I don't know, Veronica. You guys were together every time I saw you."

She rolled her eyes and pressed her lips into a thin line, irritation rolling off her in waves. She shook out her jeans to put them on and he grabbed them.

"Hey!" she protested as he threw them across the room. "I need those."

"Answer me, dammit," he demanded.

"I don't take orders," she snapped, her eyes glittering in a way that warned him to back the hell off.

He took a deep breath to reign in his temper. "Veronica, you are not leaving until we finish this so just answer me," he said as calmly as he could. Her mouth stayed in a stubborn line so he sighed and added "Please."

Veronica relented. "You saw us at lunch and in classes. That, combined with the time we spent together after school, gave Duncan four or five hours of my time, six tops."

Logan relaxed. "Deducting eight hours for sleeping, I got at least ten hours of your time, huh?"

She wouldn't meet his gaze. "Who said I didn't think about you when I was sleeping?"

He stiffened again. "Wasn't that any indication that you were screwing the wrong guy?"

"I don't know, Logan," she snapped. "Did you get any indications you were screwing the wrong girl?"

"I knew I was screwing the wrong girl. Hell, that's why I was screwing her. Because she was the wrong girl and there was no chance that it would be anything more than a fuck." He reached over to cup her face. "I never made love to her, Veronica."

Veronica pulled away. "That was your choice, Logan. You didn't have to sleep with her."

"You broke up with me, Veronica. You fucking threw me to the curb. I had nothing without you. What was I supposed to do?" He put up his hands, palms up, indignant he had to explain that basic fact to her.

"I didn't break up with you because I didn't want you. I broke up with you because you had turned into a criminal." Her hands clenched into little fists. "Every day you were doing more and more stupid things. I broke up with you because I was afraid."

That made everything inside him freeze. "You were afraid of me?" he demanded airlessly.

She shook her head. "I was afraid _for_ you. You pushed me away, Logan. If you had stayed with me and supported me like I supported you, then this shit with Duncan and Kendall would never have happened."

"But you said you _had_ to be with Duncan," he snarled.

"Only after you pushed me away." Her voice rose, a clear sign of her rising distress. "Then I started remembering all the good things about Duncan. But when you and I were together, I _only_ thought of you. Admit it, Logan. You pushed me away _long_ before I broke up with you. Your desire for revenge, or pride or whatever you called it, was greater than anything you felt for me."

"I love you. I told you I loved you," he protested.

"But not enough to make being with me more attractive than your vendetta, was it?" Suddenly the fight drained out of her and she looked sad, her eyes heavy and the corners of her mouth turning down.

"I didn't know I had to choose," he said quietly.

She smiled bitterly. "You knew, Logan. I told you all the time but you just refused to choose. And that told me that I wasn't more important."

They were both silent for a moment, the weight of regret bearing down heavily.

"Who were you thinking of when you closed your eyes?" he asked again, suddenly.

She sighed but her mouth thinned into a stubborn line and she shook her head.

"Veronica, you're not leaving here until you answer me," he said calmly.

"Is that a threat?" she demanded.

"It's just a fact."

She shook her head again.

"You took your clothes off and let me inside your body but you won't let me inside your head?" he questioned incredulously.

"Well, taking you inside my body wasn't all that great of an experience, Logan." Her voice was tart but her eyes were dark and moist, belying her caustic words.

"We're still getting our groove together. The next time will be much better for you, I promise." He tried to sound confident but they both heard the thin thread of desperation in his voice.

"The next time?" She forced a laugh. "What makes you think I want a repeat of this…uh…_performance_?" she said with disparaging emphasis.

The blood rushed to his face but he refused to let her taunt find its target. She had every right to be disappointed. "It won't be a repeat of this performance. Next time will be all about you. So why don't you just answer my question and we'll get back to it?"

She crossed her arms defensively across her body. "I don't want you to fuck with my head, Logan. I only wanted you to fuck my body."

"I can't please your body unless I get into your head, Veronica." He stepped closer to her, invading her space. "That's what happens when your emotions are involved."

"You could screw Kendall without an emotional involvement, so why can't you screw me the same way?" She arched her eyebrow. "I'm assuming you got her off once or twice or she wouldn't have kept you around. But I could be wrong," she finished cuttingly.

Again, he ignored the barb. "I wasn't emotionally involved with Kendall and she wasn't emotionally involved with me. It's different with you and me, Veronica."

"Oh, really? How is that?"

"You and I are in love with each other."

She gasped and her eyes widened, looking as though he had punched her in the stomach. Her mouth twisted and she put her head down. She tried to rush past him but Logan was ready for her. He caught her around the waist and swung her up into his arms. He stepped to the bed and fell onto it then rolled over onto her, planting himself between her naked thighs.

The sudden drop and his heavy weight winded her. It took her a moment to start struggling. "Get off of me."

"When we're done, Veronica." He grounded his stirring dick against her pink and blond center. "And we are nowhere near done."

She pushed against his shoulder. "I don't want you anymore."

He ground against her again. "Then why are you wet?"

Her cheeks flushed but she held his gaze. "That's just physical, Logan. After all, I wasn't satisfied the last time."

"You'll be satisfied this time," he assured her. "Once you tell me who you're thinking of when you close your eyes."

Her mouth set mutinously and she refused to answer. He sighed. But there was more than one way to coax answers out of Veronica Mars.

He adjusted himself so that the underside of his cock slid against her hood and rocked in slow, hard thrusts. She gasped and her hips titled up, her eyes widening with the sudden new pleasure. She glared at him suspiciously but he lowered his head and concentrated on finding her rhythm. When he finally looked up, her eyes were again shut. He kept up his thrusts until her face blushed crimson and her purring ratcheted up to steady hum of a well-tuned motorbike.

Then he stopped.

Her eyes popped open. "Finish," she ordered harshly.

"I don't take orders," he reminded her smugly.

She gritted her teeth. "Please," she spat out.

He thrust once, twice and she relaxed. Then he stopped again.

"Who do you see when you close your eyes, Veronica?"

Her eyes widened and her hands curled into fists against his chest. She waited and when it became clear to her that he wasn't going to finish her, she glared at him. She opened one fist and started to slide it down between their bodies.

"Uh-ah." He caught both of her wrists and pulled her hands up to the sides of her head. "The only way you're going to come is from me and the only way I'm going to get you off is if you answer my question."

She took a shuddering breath and continued to glare at him, blue eyes sparkling with anger. He thrust again, once, twice, three times. She was so close that her body began trembling. He stopped again.

"Answer me, Veronica," he breathed into her ear.

"You," she spat out, goaded beyond her limits. "I think about you."

He blinked and stared at her, dumbfounded.

She strained upwards as she tried to raise her hips. "I answered your question, now _finish_." Her voice was high and desperate. She was so _close_.

He began thrusting again. Yes, she had answered his question but he hadn't learned anything. If she saw him when she closed her eyes then why the hell did she even close them anyway? He was right _here_.

_Let's see if she really fucking saw him when she closed her eyes. _

He dropped his head onto the pillow beside her and pressed his lips to her ear. "Veronica," he called her name softly, and she whimpered. He whispered her name again, in time with the next thrust and she whimpered again. Yeah, it was him that was getting her hot, but why the fuck was she keeping her eyes closed?

He adjusted his hips to settle in further and take her where she needed to be. His cock was now rock hard and throbbing. He chanted her name with every thrust and she sobbed, her entire body quivering. Her hands curled into tight fists and her hips rocked against his. She was getting hotter and hotter and wetter and wetter and his cock was soaked in her and wanted to be back inside her and…

Veronica stiffened and froze in mid-thrust. Her mouth opened in another silent scream and then she fell, boneless, back against the mattress.

Logan rolled off her and scrambled desperately for a condom, his breathing harsh and labored. He tore the packet open with his teeth and fumbled to get it on. He was slippery with her cum and growled as his fingers slipped. Shit, shit, _shit_. He had been putting on condoms for years, what the hell was wrong with him?

He finally got the condom on and turned back to Veronica. She was exactly as he had left her, legs splayed, fists curled weakly besides her head, cheek pressed into the pillow and eyes closed. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly as she fought for air.

He was on her and in her unresisting body in a second. The first slide in almost undid him. She was so damn tight. He thrust once, tried for a second time before he admitted defeat and gushed inside her. Drained, he slumped over her still-shivering body.

It took him a minute to realize that he was crushing her and he turned them over weakly. She rested her face in the crook of his neck and her arms fell against his sides. Her legs framed his and her body still sheltered the head of his penis. His arms were thrown wide and his cheek rested against her damp blond hair.

Finally, she stirred and dragged herself off him. He flinched at the loss of her warmth and moaned in protest when she freed his cock. She tried to slide off his bed but he reached out and grabbed her wrist. She looked down at where he held her and sighed.

She looked over at him and gave him the fakest smile he had ever seen. "Well, that was fun. Thank you, Logan. I should be going now."

He laughed without humor and tightened his grip fractionally. "Right. You don't leave until we're done. And we are nowhere near done."

She looked deliberately at his cock. "Oh, I don't know. I think we are."

He also looked down at his cock. "Don't worry, I've still got plenty in reserve for you."

"Marathon man," she said softly but without admiration.

Suddenly, she looked tired and not the good-fuck kind of tired. The mask had disappeared completely. He saw a version of Veronica he had never seen before and that he never wanted to see again. She looked defeated, depressed and – _God dammit!_ \- disappointed.

"I'm leaving now, Logan." She used her free hand to smooth down her badly wrinkled and sweat-stained t-shirt. She tugged on her captured wrist but seemed unsurprised when he didn't readily let go.

She sighed. "Let go of my wrist, Logan."

He tugged her closer. "Explain to me how you can get off on me with your eyes closed but not with your eyes open," he demanded.

She refused to meet his gaze and tugged futilely on her wrist. "Logan, you're hurting me," she tried.

"No, I'm not." He tugged her closer and she fell across his chest. "Explain."

She opened her mouth again, to explain or protest, he didn't know which, when the chirping of her phone interrupted her. They both recognized the ring tone and froze.

It was the theme from _Dragnet_.

Veronica blushed crimson and tugged her wrist again. This time he let her go. She scrambled off the bed and grabbed her jacket. She crouched down beside the bed as she answered the call.

"Hi, Dad." Veronica's voice quivered just a bit.

Logan rolled off the bed and went back into the bathroom. He disposed of the condom and washed up. When he came out, Veronica was still on the phone. She glanced up at him then looked away, tugging on the hem of her t-shirt, trying to make the waist-length t-shirt cover more than it could. He looked around and finally spotted his bathrobe crumpled near the door. He shook it out as he walked towards her. He dropped it on her shoulders and she gave him a grateful little smile as she tilted her head and listened to her father.

"Yes, I wrote it all down," she responded as she slipped her arms into the sleeves. The robe dwarfed her but she regained a visible measure of confidence as she tied the sash and covered herself. "Your flight arrives on Monday at six o'clock. I'll be waiting outside the terminal to pick you up."

Well, that was interesting news. This was Thursday evening and Keith Mars was going to be out of town until Monday evening. Logan looked at Veronica and smiled. She looked distinctly nervous and swallowed visibly.

"What, Dad? I didn't hear that." She turned away from him and focused back on her conversation with her father.

Logan turned and left his bedroom, still naked. He went down the stairs and across the main hallway, carefully skirting around the broken glass and vodka soaking into the polished wood floor. His goal was the security room. Unlike the rest of the rooms in the house, the security room was clean and orderly. After the dual debacles of father and son arrests that fateful night, the paparazzi had been relentless. Trina had freaked and insisted on stronger security measures, which was fine by Logan.

So they had hired the best security company Aaron's money could buy and turned the mausoleum into a fortress. They had the border wall raised and topped it with barbed wire and charged electricity. They had replaced the decorative slotted-bar gate with crash-proof reinforced double steel doors. Every window in the house was now bulletproof and the security room doubled as a panic room large enough for ten people.

But what Logan was interested in now was the inside security. He was always careful to set the outer perimeter security, the charged electricity, the motion detectors, the floodlights and the cameras. He was more casual about the inner perimeter security. After all, he reasoned, how was anyone going to get into the house if they couldn't get onto the property? Unless someone really reckless – and stupid – decided to climb down from a helicopter or something. Even then, he still had the motion detectors on the grounds to warn him. So, he had pretty much ignored the inside locks as a means of keeping people out.

But for keeping people in, they were perfect.

Once engaged, metal bars slid into the frames of the windows and doors, so they couldn't be opened. All the doors and window frames were double-reinforced galvanized steel. It would take an armored tank to break them down. They had a security panel installed by every door so they could disengage the bars when necessary. Logan leaned over the keyboard, entered the necessary passwords and brought up the security menu. He deleted the current code and debated for a moment before selecting a new one. He decided that, in honor of this special day, he would use their initials.

Veronica Leanne Mars and Logan Lester Echolls.

V-L-M-L-L-E.

8-5-6-5-5-3.

Veronica wouldn't need to know the new code. She'd been with him when he'd initially programmed the system with the security team. With her sharp mind, she'd remember the override code. But first she had to get to a panel, then she needed time to program the system override. He planned on keeping her far too busy for that kind of free time.

He entered the code and listened with satisfaction as the metal bars began engaging. That security company had been worth every penny and the fucking dollars they'd charged. The series of soft snicks took less than five seconds to fully engage.

"Logan?"

He walked out of the security room. She was standing at the foot of the staircase, fully dressed. Well, not fully dressed, he thought with a smirk. She was missing her panties. Veronica looked around nervously. She jumped when he laid his hand on her shoulder.

"What was that noise?" she asked suspiciously. "It sounded like car door locks."

Logan squeezed her shoulder and smiled reassuringly. "That, sweetheart, was the sound of your running days coming to an end."


	3. Chapter 3

**When the Cuddling Isn't the Best Part  
(Part III)**

Veronica stared at him in puzzlement. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Logan merely smiled and lowered his head. His lips brushed hers and she pulled back. Frowning, he cupped her elbows and brought her closer. He tried to kiss her again and she turned her head away.

"What the hell is this?" he demanded. "No kiss for your lover?"

She pulled free and straightened her jacket. "You're not my lover. You're just the guy I fucked." Her words were pure bravado but she wouldn't meet his eyes.

She turned to walk away and he caught the back of her jacket collar. "Well, sweetheart, since I'm the only guy you're fucking, I think I deserve a kiss for my efforts."

She wriggled but he refused to let go. "As _impressive_ as your efforts were, I don't think they deserve a kiss." Her voice dripped sarcasm.

"So, no 'thank you' for getting you off twice?" He sounded amused.

"Since I did most of the work, no." She pulled harder and only succeeded in sliding her jacket down her arms.

He yanked and the jacket slipped off completely. Veronica lost her balance and toppled backwards, right into his waiting arms.

She grabbed his arm and looked up at him, blue eyes wide.

He grinned at her. "What is it about me?" he mused thoughtfully. "Every woman I meet, they just fall into my arms."

She yanked on the arms still holding her. "Well, then it's such a pity you don't know what to do with them when you get them, isn't it?" she responded acidly.

His eyes narrowed. But if she thought she was going to piss him off with that remark...okay he was a little ticked. He was going to fix her misconception of his poor skills. He knew what to do with women but Veronica was different. He'd barely had any time to absorb the pleasure of their new sexual connection. She'd successfully kept him off his game for most of their time. That was about to change. They were going to set up some ground rules. The power balance had shifted, and now he was in charge.

"We're playing by new rules now, Veronica," he announced flatly.

She stilled. "What does that mean?" she demanded.

"It means that trying to piss me off so you can storm out of here isn't going to work." Confidence flooded him as he straightened up, Veronica still held firmly in his arms. "You can't manipulate me as easily as you used to. I've learned a lot about you, too."

She tried to pull out of his arms. "I wasn't trying to manipulate you. Well, maybe your dick, but it didn't do me a whole lot of good."

"Insulting my dick or my ego isn't going to work, either." He calmly let her go and she stumbled back, almost losing her balance without his support. "You started this. Now you're going to finish it."

"It is finished," she snapped, eyes sparkling with tension. "You got off, I got off and now we're done."

"And you think that's all there is to this?" he snorted. "Is that what Duncan taught you about sex?"

"No, Logan. That's what you taught me." Whatever sparkle she had worked up from their fight died in her eyes at the mention of Duncan. "So there you go. You don't have to be pissed off for not being the first. I learned so much from you."

He stalked up to her, brown eyes burning with fury. Veronica's eyes widened and she stepped back until the wall stopped her retreat. He didn't blame her, he probably looked rabid, naked, half-aroused, with lust and fury crackling around him like an electric halo.

He advanced until he was pressed into her. He yanked her t-shirt up so his cock could rest against the warmth of her belly. He bent over her and into her, forehead to forehead, groin into belly, thighs into thighs.

"You think that's why I'm pissed? Because Duncan got you first?" He barely even recognized his own voice, it was so low and feral. His body responded to being against her warm, damp, sex-scented flesh. His cock jerked, his heart rate sped up and his knees locked to hold him firmly against her denim-covered thighs.

"Well, I'm sure you think you would have plugged me right the first time, don't you?" Her voice was tart but she stood stiffly against the wall, like a rabbit that instinctively froze when confronted by a wolf, trying to stay so still that the enemy would not see it. Trying not to be devoured by the hungry wolf.

Poor Veronica. She didn't understand that there wasn't any response that would stop him from devouring her. Not from the moment she undid the barrettes in her hair. Her hair had come down, and with it, every barrier that had kept him from her.

And she still thought she had only given him her body.

On loan.

Poor, sweet, _innocent_ Veronica. She had no idea what she had surrendered.

"No." He twisted his head slightly and nuzzled her cheek. "I said that because my _best friend_ turned his back on me when I needed him most. I was pissed at him for that, not for having you."

"So once we broke up, you never gave me a second thought, huh?" Still that tart voice but her body had begun trembling.

Maybe she did have _some_ idea of what she surrendered. And what she had unleashed. He lifted his forehead from hers and watched her throat convulse as she swallowed.

"Well, I was really busy at the time." He tried to sound smug but he could barely keep the thread of their conversation. Who the fuck cared what happened or how it happened? She was here now and he wanted to be back inside her. He would take her against this goddamn wall if he had to. In fact, he wanted to.

He manacled her wrists in his hands and brought them up over her head, stretching out her lovely lean body and causing her spine to curve and press her bared belly into his cock. She gasped and her blue eyes widened in shock and arousal, only now beginning to understand just how precarious her position really was.

And she still didn't understand the true extent of the power she had turned over to him.

She made an attempt to pull back, trying to save herself from the inevitable. "Why did I even come here? I thought I could..." she trailed off and tried to twist her arms free.

His hold was careful but firm. He wasn't going to hurt her but he wasn't going to let her go, either.

"Thought you could _what_? Talk to me, Veronica. Tell me what is going on inside your head." He wanted to get inside her head as much as he wanted to get inside her body. Maybe more. And that was saying a lot as his cock firmed against her warm, trembling belly.

She snorted harshly. "What do you care about what's inside my head? You only want what's inside my pants." As though to prove her point, she ground her belly against his hardening dick.

And his penis was ready. Not to his full extent but enough that she stopped grinding immediately. He wanted to laugh out loud. And she thought this was the way to get him to let her go? Actually, this was the way to get her deeply fucked.

At this point pretty much _anything_ she did was going to get her deeply fucked.

And, of course, now that his cock was taking over, his brain was fading fast. What was it that she said? Something about him only wanting her body? That pissed him off. Wasn't he the one who put a stop to things when she seemed nervous? Wasn't he the one who wanted to talk and told her he loved her? Indignation and barely buried hurt brought some blood back into his head.

His eyes narrowed. "No, _sugarpuss_, you've got our roles reversed. I was always the one who wanted to talk and not push. You were the one who wanted to make out in bathrooms, who dumped me without giving me even half a chance, then showed up here a few months later _just_ to fuck me."

"I thought..." She shook her head. "Never mind what I thought. We're done here."

"We've barely even started." He dropped his head to her neck and bit her frantically beating pulse. She whimpered and her nipples shrank and hardened, stabbing into his chest through the soft cotton of her shirt and bra.

Fuck no, they weren't done. Every time things got too much for her, she bolted. But not this time. This time there was no running away. She wasn't leaving until he had some real answers. She was going to be pissed when she realized she was locked in. Just the thought of her in a rage made him grin.

The tension melted out of him, leaving only the pleasure and anticipation behind. So much for the brilliant, hard-boiled detective. She set a trap and then walked into it herself.

"Why don't you rest up for a while, lover boy?" she snapped coldly, her voice trembling only slightly. "It appears I got you on an 'off' day." She shrugged elaborately. "Or is this your normal performance and the stories of your abilities have been greatly exaggerated?"

He nuzzled her temple and smiled tenderly. "Veronica, I get you."

"No, you _had_ me and _what_ an experience it was. But don't worry, I'll be sure to tell everybody what a stud you are." She gave him a cold, cutting glance. "You know, for those times when I need to politely chit-chat with strangers? I'm sure enough of them have had you to make it a common topic."

He didn't rise to the bait, but his smiled morphed into a smirk. Veronica's eyes narrowed suspiciously at his smug expression. Oops, wrong move on his part. He had been a bit too smug and put Veronica on the defensive. And a defensive Veronica was a thinking Veronica.

She glared at him. "Alright, what have you got up your sleeve now?"

"No sleeves, Veronica. Wow, that really hurts." His smirk was relaxed and easy, trying to be as non-threatening as he could be, given his current condition. "Here I am, stark naked, and you didn't even notice."

She shook her head. "Whatever. Thank you for a good time. Now that you've helped me kill _fifteen minutes_ I need to decide how to spend the rest of my day."

"Ouch," he said, still not offended. "You wound me, Veronica. I'm sure I was good for at least a half hour."

She pushed against his arms. "No, Logan. You were good for about fifteen minutes. The rest of the time was just hard work. Now, let me go."

He resisted her attempts easily. "After an insult like that, I think I'm going to lose my hard-on."

He couldn't see that the shadows had lifted in his deep brown eyes. They were sparkling and clear, open in a way they hadn't been in a long, long time. Sparring with her always got his blood going, gave him a high nothing had matched until he'd slid into her body. The prospect of having both her body and cutting wit was intoxicating.

She stilled, the shift in mood and tension finally registering with her. She bit her lower lip and her eyes darted around nervously, looking for escape.

"You're getting it now, aren't you, Veronica?" His voice was a low, satisfied rumble as he rubbed slowly against her, letting her feel the hard, ready length of his cock. "You're starting to understand that what you gave up to me is nothing compared to what you're _going to_ give me."

Their gazes locked and their breaths hitched. Blue eyes filled with wonder, uncertainty, curiosity and just the smallest amount of fear. Brown eyes filled with lust, affection, anticipation and a matching sliver of fear. Logan released her wrists and slid his hands to hers, palm to palm, fingers laced together tightly.

Slowly, carefully, he fitted his mouth to hers. This time she didn't try to pull away but opened for him. Their tongues touched gently, cautiously, as if they had never kissed before. Then the kiss took over and their eyes fell shut.

When he finally lifted his head, he liked what he saw. Her blue eyes were dazed and slumberous, her cheeks were flushed with color and her soft pink mouth was swollen and slightly bruised. Of course, he probably looked the exact same way, but he wasn't the one who was fighting this.

And it appeared that neither was she, any longer. She didn't protest when he when he lifted her in his arms. She did gasp a little and tighten her arms reflexively around his neck. She stared deeply into his eyes but said nothing as he mounted the stairs.

He carried her into his room and stopped just inside the doorway, struck by a memory. What had she said that day she confronted him about Kendall? Something about his room still "reeking of bimbo". It was true, his room had reeked of sweat and sex and desperation. He had thrown open his windows and stripped the sheets the moment he was sure Veronica had left.

He took a deep breath as he crossed to his bed. The room did have that acrid sex and sweat smell but it was overridden by the smell of powder and perfume. The room smelled like aroused Veronica. It was a strangely sweet and musky scent and he breathed in again, enjoying the way the scent tickled his nose and made his dick jerk.

She must have been thinking along the same lines because she looked him directly in the eyes and asked with admirable casualness, "So, did you and Kendall fuck in here a lot?"

Logan froze at his bedside, Veronica still in his arms. The intimacy that began with their kiss downstairs was suddenly ripped away. Veronica's eyes were cold and hard, jealousy, uncertainty and the instinctive drive for self-preservation darkening them. She unwound her arms from around his neck and pushed against his chest.

A rush of fury and self-recrimination passed through his body. He shouldn't have brought her back up to this bed. They should have stayed downstairs and made love against the wall. She had no unpleasant associations with the wall downstairs. And he had been so close. He had almost torn down her barriers.

But he had to bring her back up here. The condoms were here and _they_ had just fucked in this bed. Perhaps it didn't matter where they were. Kendall and Duncan were still between them and they had to be dealt with before they could move on to a meaningful relationship. And they were moving on to a relationship. _No way_ was he going to let her get away with only fucking him.

She could fuck him all she wanted but she couldn't _only_ fuck him. They would be more than that. They _were_ more than that.

Veronica needed to fight for him. No more him doing all the chasing, all the apologizing, all the forgiving. Now it was her turn to open up and make herself vulnerable. She needed to become the aggressor and win him back. There was no way they could have an equal relationship if she felt she could pull his strings, yank him back then push him away whenever she wanted to.

She put up a halfhearted struggle, tugging a bit, but they both knew the battle was with herself and her need to be in control. She wanted to run and be safe but she was also curious about what they could do and could have together. And it was that curious nature he was going to play on now. Veronica prided herself on having knowledge and information she could use against others. The fact that he had knowledge he could use against her, a power to hold over her, was obviously driving her crazy.

He was still in control. It was just a matter of handling her right. And he was going to make it his mission in life to learn to handle Veronica Mars. He smiled at her and opened his arms, releasing her. She bounced against the mattress and her hair fell into her face and she looked ravished and well fucked.

Well, not _well_ fucked.

At least, not yet.

"Dammit, Logan," she began but stopped when he laughed.

"What?" He was suddenly feeling light-headed and relaxed. "Afraid I was going to drop you on your ass?"

"You did drop me on my ass," she grumbled and struggled to sit up.

"Uh, uh." He reached for her leg and yanked.

She fell back against the mattress and glared at him. He pulled on her boot and she tried to pull her leg away, which meant the boot slipped off easily. He looked down at her bare foot and the sweet pink polish on her toenails. "What happened to your socks?"

She stared at him blankly for a minute. "I couldn't find them," she finally answered. Then, as an afterthought, added, "Hey, give me back my boot."

He grinned at her and threw her boot over his shoulder. He grabbed the other boot but she yanked free and rolled away to the other side of the bed. She stood up and glared at him again. He shook his head dolefully.

"Tsk, tsk," he said and grinned at her. "I never thought I'd see the day you'd back down, Mars."

Her chest heaved as she smoothed down her t-shirt. He looked at the thin strip of skin left bare between her shirt and jeans and his mouth watered. Jeez, they had barely even skimmed the surface of what he wanted to do to her and she thought she was _leaving_?

She'd be lucky if he let her out of bed in time to pick up her father from the airport, _four days from now_.

Her eyes narrowed at the lustful, predatory gleam in his. She tried again for bravado. "I'm not backing down. This..._thing_ is pretty much over."

His indulgent good humor disappeared as quickly as it appeared. "Why? Because _you_ say it's over? Did you really think you could walk in here and jerk me around and then just waltz on out of here?" he ground out.

She hesitated, wary of his mood shift. "I was hoping for more than a quick jerk, but if that's all you could provide." She shrugged elaborately and tried to move past him.

"Wrong, Veronica." He caught her around the waist and pulled her against him, her clothed back against his naked front. "You're going to stay and we're going to work this out."

"Work what out, Logan? Your famed stamina? I think we've already worked _through_ that. Such a pity." She shook her head sadly. "And I heard you could go all night. Well, that'll teach me not to listen to all the locker room gossip."

"Maybe it's not me," he said softly, pretending to consider the matter. "Maybe it's you."

She turned on him then, her features frozen but her eyes blazing, anger and indignation and...what? Was that _dread_ in her eyes? But she attacked with admirable fury.

"Are you trying to blame me for you lack of performance?" she snarled. "I've got a pussy just like the next girl. With your long and _varied_ history, I would think we'd be interchangeable, with one being just as good as the next."

"So you're suggesting I just close my eyes and get on with it, like you do?" he snarled in response.

The attack was swift and bloodless, but more vicious than he had intended. And, judging by her wounded expression, it had struck deeper than it should have.

All the color drained from her face. "Hell, Logan. At least when I close my eyes, I still remember you. You can't even remember the girl you fucked before Kendall. Don't even try to pretend this has anything to do with me. "

He could see that he had attacked too brutally. She was still reeling from it. What the hell was going on with her? He had to get her to confide in him before his hurt and jealously and, fuck - _abandonment issues_ \- caused him to say something unforgivable.

"It has everything to do with you." He tried to keep the accusation out of his voice, _really_ tried. "I fucked Kendall because I could forget her the minute I left her." His hand shot out and grabbed her arm. "But you, Veronica, I can't forget you even months after you dumped me."

"Maybe I don't care if you remember me or not." She pulled on her arm, wanting to put distance, if not emotionally, then at least physically, between them.

"Oh, you care alright, Veronica." He tried to tread carefully. He needed to push her hard enough to get answers but not so hard that she bolted. And Veronica was a bolter, it was in her nature. She was a lot like their mothers in that respect. They bolted by sinking into the bottle. Veronica bolted by physically running.

And she didn't need to know that there was _no chance_ of her bolting on him this time.

Keith and Aaron handled the situation by accepting and ignoring it in their women. Logan was going to break it out of his. Veronica had only built up her defensive reaction in the last two horrific years. She, unlike Leanne and Lynn, was out of the situations that caused her so much pain. Veronica would learn to stop running.

"You care," he said again, quietly. "Just like you cared that day you came storming into my bedroom after you found out about Kendall. That was the day you realized how much you wanted me, wasn't it, Veronica?"

He stopped and looked into her eyes. She was remembering her jealousy and disappointment from that day. Her nose flared and her breathing sped up but she held her ground.

"I could see it in your eyes, Veronica." Cautiously, he released her arm. "You saw the mess my room was in and you wanted me, just like that. And you wanted sex, to feel what it was like, to have me that same way, completely _uncontrolled_. You want to know how it feels to just let go, damn the consequences."

"Unfortunately, I didn't get that," she spat back. "So maybe it is me. Sorry to have wasted your time."

She turned for the door and he gambled. She could so easily leave him. _It was so easy for people to leave him_. He didn't try to stop her but turned to follow her progress.

"Do you want to know how she got what she wanted, Veronica?" It was the years of practice, of knowing that no one ever put him _first_, that kept the tremor out of his voice.

Her step faltered and she looked back at him. He leaned against the wall and stretched his arms over his head, lengthening his body, making the most of the arms, chest and six-pack he had worked so hard to define. Her gaze slid down his body, making his nipples contract and the muscle he was most proud of bulge. She was mesmerized.

"She got it because she took it." His voice was low and rough and he was practically growling. "She didn't lay back and expect me to give it to her. She wanted it so she went after it."

Veronica shuddered and turned to face him. Her gaze slid from his dick, up his torso and to his eyes. She took a faltering step towards him and he fought to keep the triumph out of his expression. She may not be ready to accept that she loved him, but she wanted him. For a girl as emotionally damaged as Veronica, it was a huge concession. He could work with that.

"Question is, do you want it, Veronica?" He brought his arms down and held her gaze as he pushed away from the wall. "Do you want me like that, Veronica?"

"Yes." The answer was pulled out of her and she swallowed visibly.

"Then come and get it." He kept his voice even with effort. No taunting, no smugness, just flat and factual. "Think you can handle it? No closing your eyes, no avoiding my kisses and no pulling back. If you want to really fuck me, then you're going to have to go all the way."

She looked trapped and frightened, even as she took another involuntary step closer.

"I did go all the way. Jeez, Logan, it's only been ten minutes and you've forgotten me already?" She made an admirable attempt at sarcasm but the trembling in her voice gave her away. "I haven't even walked out the door yet."

And there was no way she _could_ walk out the door. But she didn't need to know about that.

Yet.

"Are you trying to back out now, Mars? Giving up?" he teased gently. He was about to reel her in and they both knew it.

Her eyes narrowed and the flame of battle suddenly lit in them. Veronica Mars was many things, but a coward was certainly not one of them. She marched back to him, a little off balance with only one heavy boot. He smiled at her fierce expression and wobbly pace.

Veronica sweet mouth twisted into a frown and a furrow appeared between her brows. She was annoyed, thinking her actions amused him and glared. She stopped in front of him, yanked his head down and kissed him like she meant it.

And what a kiss it was. Between her mouth and his dick, all the blood was sucked out of his head. He slumped down on the bed, dragging her with him. She straddled his body, her jeans rough against his belly, her palms cupping his cheeks, her hair a sex-and-perfume-scented curtain covering their faces, sucking his tongue and his willpower right out of him.

Finally, she ended the kiss and his head stopped spinning, barely. "How was that?" she spat out.

He licked his lips. "A good start but I know you don't mean it."

"Really? How is that? Been brushing up on your psychic abilities, Logan?" She deliberately slid down in his lap, until the seam of her jeans pressed over his cock.

It was an unexpected move but he still managed a smirk. "You're still dressed."

She glared at him for a moment then whipped off her shirt.

It took everything in him to keep the cool smirk in place. He wanted to grab her and kiss her senseless then laugh his ass off. Maybe he should feel guilty for using his greater experience - of sex and of Veronica - against her, but he didn't. She thought she was in control. That she was still pulling his strings.

_Wrong, Veronica._

She was here and she wasn't getting away this time. No turning around and finding out she had run again. No more hiding from their problems because it was easier to blame him than to fight for him. From now on, if she wanted him, she was going to do the fighting. She was here and she was going to stay here. He'd made sure of it.

"Alright," she snapped. "Any special, ahh...quirks I should know about? Ice cubes? Chicken feathers? Blood?" The sarcasm worked better this time, the trembling in her voice barely audible, unless he was listening for it, which he was.

He looked at her nipples pushing against her bra and watched her breasts heave. "Nope, sweetheart, you've got everything I need."

He slumped down a bit, throwing her off balance. She put her hands on his chest to steady herself. She looked down at his chest then up at his face again, blue eyes flashing fire.

"So any pussy _will_ do it for you, huh?" She curled her fingers into the dense muscle and squeezed gently. Then she straightened out her fingers and smoothed her palms over his nipples. She began to rub in small, tight circles.

"No, not any, but yours sure does." His breath hissed out as his nipples reacted to the firm pressure. Oh, yeah, he forgot to factor in this trick. She was really good at this.

Even though he tried to prepare for it, a shudder passed through him when she dropped her head to his chest. He'd forgotten that all those times he had been playing with her breasts, she had been playing with his chest.

Veronica has a special technique, honed from much careful practice. First she circled his nipple with the point of her tongue, brushing away any stray chest hairs and sensitizing the skin. Then she swiped it with the flat of her tongue to make it contract and stand up. Once she achieved the desired result to her lazy damp strokes - all of two seconds later - she would gently bite the aureole to lift his nipple into her mouth.

It was harder for her now that he had built up his chest muscles. Less soft skin for her to bite but she managed. Veronica Mars did not give up. He reached down and unfastened the barrettes, allowing her hair to fall free and sweep along his chest. He threw the clips vaguely in the direction of the bedside table and tunneled his hands into her hair. He lifted it carefully away from her face so he could watch her suck his nipple.

She found her rhythm, one nipple massaged in her mouth and the other massaged under her palm. His fingers gripped and released her head in time to her steady pulls. He _loved_ this. Unconsciously he began to rub his dick against the damp seam of her jeans.

"Damn, Veronica," he breathed, eyes fluttering shut. "I've missed this."

Until Veronica, he had never paid much attention to his nipples. He had never realized how sensitive they were. The other women he had been with, well, they were only interested in his status or his penis. And, until Veronica, that had been enough.

She released his left nipple and dragged her tongue across his chest. He let go of her hair so she could move her head unfettered. She covered the abandoned nipple with her palm and pinched and pulled it to keep it aroused.

"Logan, I'm shocked. You mean there was one trick Kendall didn't know?" She smiled sweetly but her tone was venomous. "Didn't you have the time to teach her? Or was it the just the 'slam bam" you were looking for?"

_God_. The little minx was going to get the better of him if he didn't do something - and fast. He jack-knifed up, sending her tumbling backwards, releasing her grip on his nipple. He inhaled harshly and rubbed his stinging nipple.

_Wrong move_. Veronica's eyes widened and she shrank away. Fuck. Now he had scared her. He opened his mouth and said the first stupid thing he could think of to keep her from scrambling off the bed.

"Sure do scare easily, don't you, Mars?"

What the _hell_ was wrong with him? First he couldn't fuck her properly, now he couldn't talk to her properly. And she was supposed to enjoy being in his bed, why?

She hesitated for a moment, clearly thinking of bolting, muscles bunched, gaze drifting to the door, before she gathered her courage and smirked. "A little overly sensitive, aren't you, Echolls?"

He narrowed his eyes. He'll show her overly sensitive. He leaned forward and caught the waistband of her jeans. One quick twist and the button snapped open. He pressed his hand flat against her belly and thrust into the curls. Veronica gasped.

"I don't know, Mars. You seem a little sensitive there, yourself." He wiggled deeper and sunk his middle finger straight in. She was warm and wet, her body clenching lightly at the intrusion but offering no resistance.

She gasped again and wiggled her hips. The pressure of his arm against the tight fabric pushed the zipper down, giving him a better angle. His thumb brushed against the pouty little bud, stroked lightly but not enough. She thrust her hips in an attempt to increase the friction, but he rode out the movement.

"Sorry, sugar puff, but it's not going to be that easy this time." He kept his stokes maddeningly light. "Make me want it." He went after the pulse at her throat again.

She tried to scramble up out of her awkward position in his lap and accidentally kicked him with her boot. At least he hoped it was accidental.

"Damn, Veronica. I know you're mad at me but do you have to kick the crap out of me?" he spoke lightly, willing to let her do pretty much anything if it meant getting back inside her body.

"I'm sorry," she gasped. She moved drunkenly, her movements hampered by their positions, his refusal to take his hand out of her jeans and her own arousal.

He admired her determination as she shifted, finally maneuvering herself to the edge of the bed. He settled behind her, brushing her hair away from the back of her neck so he could lick and bite her exposed vertebrae. Her breathing was audible and ragged as she put her booted foot on her other knee.

"Dear God," she gasped as the position tightened the crotch of her jeans and flattened his hand against her, his middle finger sunk to the hilt inside her. She froze.

"Fuck," he gasped. He really couldn't move his hand. His palm was pressed against her throbbing clit and cum flowed thickly around his buried finger.

He slid his lips around to her ear and used his free hand to brush the hair away. "Sweetheart, you have to move. Neither of us is going to get off this way." He bit her earlobe sharply but released quickly as to not cause her much pain.

That sharp little jab was what she needed. She took a deep shuddery breath and started tugging on her boot. The wiggling caused her clit to rub against his palm. She whimpered softly.

Maybe she was going to get off on this.

She yanked again and her boot flew off from the unnecessary force. She didn't flinch or try to duck. She couldn't because she _had_ gotten off on it. She shuddered and her channel began convulsing around his finger. He pulled her flat on her back and yanked down her jeans, pulling his hand free from her body so he could drag the rough fabric away from her tender pussy.

He pulled the denim away and spread her thighs. He used his thumbs to open her wide and watched the spasms ripple along her inner walls. His blood began to throb in rhythm with her ripples. He closed his eyes and fought to control his body.

_Fuck_ but she was responsive. If he had pushed her even the least little bit over the summer, would she have given it up to him sooner? But he hadn't pushed her. He loved her and respected what she had survived and waited for her to come to him in her own time.

But then time had run out for them.

And _Duncan_ had been there when she was ready. Or maybe she was ready _because_ Duncan was there. _That_ did the trick. The throbbing in his cock receded as he remembered his anger and jealously at Duncan. His _best friend_, the guy who had fucked the girl that really belonged to Logan.

But not very well, because Veronica didn't scream when she came. Well, he was going to make her scream when she came in his arms, if it was the last thing he did.

Logan dropped his head and carefully touched his tongue to the swollen little bud. Veronica gasped weakly and flinched. She _flinched_? Why? Because she was too sensitive? Because she didn't like it? Because she wasn't _used to it_?

Was Duncan so fucking incompetent that he had never gone down on her?

The idea both pleased him and upset him. There was a primitive part of him that was thrilled to be able to give her a pleasure she hadn't known before. Then there was another part of him that was furious that his Veronica experienced anything less than mind-blowing pleasure. After all the fear and horror she had associated with sex for over a year of her life, she deserved to have nothing but pure pleasure from the guys she took as her lovers.

As much as it repulsed him, he needed to know about Veronica's sex life with Duncan. He didn't expect that it was great but what if Duncan had been selfish, or worse, _hurt her_. He remembered the brief expression of dread that had crossed her features earlier. If Duncan had said or did or _didn't do_ something that was causing Veronica to doubt her sexuality then Logan was going to beat the shit out of him.

But first, he had to give Veronica the pure pleasure she deserved.

He dropped his head back between her legs and carefully parted her. He blew a stream of warm moist air against the glistening, flowing center and the swollen, plump lips. Her flesh was now a deep rosy pink, only a little raw. He flattened his tongue and licked from the bottom of the slit all the way up under her hood.

Veronica whimpered and dug her heels into the mattress, trying either to raise herself to his mouth or pull away. He released her clit then and pushed up on his arms to look at her face. She was flushed and dewy, her eyes open but so turbulent that he could decipher nothing in them.

Maybe that's where she was. Maybe he was pushing her to overload. Maybe she needed to overload to break out of whatever it was that kept her silent in his bed.

He returned to the wet curls with renewed determination. Veronica may have had a penis shoved inside her but she hadn't learned much about making love.

He knew something about it. There was a time, at the beginning, when he had been in love with Lilly. He doubted now that she had ever been in love with him, but for a time, she had been the light of his life. In the beginning, he and Lilly, his first, had made love. Gradually, as Lilly's interest in him as a person waned, it had turned into sex, pleasurable and exciting, but ultimately frustrating and hurtful.

Logan didn't want Veronica to experience frustration and pain in bed. But she already had. How much, he didn't know yet. He had never pushed her to talk about that night at Shelly Pomroy's house, or the morning after. And they had yet to talk about the rest of her experiences with Duncan.

And whatever pain she'd had, he wanted her to put it behind her. She would get past it, he would make sure of it.

He was very gentle on the tender flesh, brushing lightly with his tongue. He used the same technique she had used on his nipple to pleasure her little clit. First licking around and under the hood, then using the flat of his tongue to coax the little tip into a hard point before sucking on that little pleasure bud.

Veronica began to sob and rock her hips. He shifted his head to look at her. She was watching him, blue eyes dark and stormy, her expression a cross between pleasure and wariness. She wet her lips with her talented pink tongue. He pushed up away from her firm thighs and her expression fell to one of disappointment.

"Hand me a condom, Veronica," he growled.

She looked confused for a few seconds, as though he was speaking some foreign language she didn't understand. Then she snapped out of it and flung out her hand to find one of the foil wrapped packets littering the bed. Her fingers shook a little as she held the little square out to him.

"Put it on me." He rose to his knees between her thighs, his cock jutting out, hard and proud.

It was awkward for her to maneuver with her thighs spread so widely and his knees holding them open. He reached out and grabbed the bra she still wore, between her breasts, to steady her as she sat up. She made a delicious picture, blond hair all mussed, skin flushed, mouth and pussy equally swollen and open, lips wet and shiny, as she fumbled to tear open the package.

She licked her lips again as she rolled the rubber on him and Logan had to lock his thighs to keep from thrusting his dick between those beautiful pink lips. He'd be willing to do a lot to have those luscious lips around his cock and he would have it, but not yet. At this point she could barely tolerate him going down on her. He wasn't going to force her to go down on him until she was ready.

God, he was such a sap for this girl, even willing to put aside the pleasure of a blow job just for her smile.

Veronica smiled up at him as she finished her task and his resolve was tested again. He threaded his free hand into her silky blonde hair and tilted her face up. Yep, he was a sap. That smile was definitely worth it.

He leaned into her and pushed her back to lie on the bed. She reached up and wound her arms around his neck as he re-settled between her legs. He ducked out from under her arms and her smile died away.

"Logan?" She looked wary again, confused by his actions.

He grinned at her reassuringly. "I'll be back," he promised.

He kissed down her neck and into her cleavage. He reached around her back to unsnap the barrier. She helped him by arching her back then pulling the straps down her arms. His grin expanded as her creamy breasts with their swollen, pointed nipples were exposed and vulnerable to his mouth.

"Ahh," he murmured as he placed little biting kisses up the slope of one breast. "There they are. I've been missing my babies." He swirled his tongue around the nipple. "Have they been missing me?"

"Yes," she sighed and he felt her relax into the familiarity of his mouth on her breasts.

As he bit and sucked and stroked her nipples, he threaded his fingers through the wet curls. She stiffened a bit as he stroked her clit but didn't protest. It took him only seconds to find her rhythm. Soon her hips began to lift and she thrust against his hand.

When his hand was completely wet with her cum he shifted lower.

"Logan?" There was a tiny thread of desperation in her voice but he ignored it as he opened his mouth on her body. He followed the nearly invisible line of downy soft hair that bisected her lower belly, his tongue leaving a damp trail in his wake.

Veronica twisted under him, trying to close her thighs, impossible with him already wedged between them. She then tried pushing on his shoulders, moving him away from his goal. But it was too late and his tongue was already there, jabbing under her hood, attacking the swollen, aroused and defenseless bud.

She was too close to orgasm to withstand the assault for very long. Little animal-like sounds, a cross between sobs and moans, were forced out of her throat. Less than a moment later, her hips shot up, finally succeeding in dislodging him, as her body convulsed. Her back bowed sharply and he thrust his fingers inside her in time to her contractions.

When the ripples began to ease he pulled out his fingers and thrust in his cock. Her body was slick and completely open but _she_ wasn't prepared to take him. Her eyes popped open and she shrieked.

He looked at her face and grinned with satisfaction as the spasms regained strength. Her mouth was open and she gasped in air as her body writhed, completely out of her control. He planted his hands under her armpits and matched her thrusts. Her fingers dug into his biceps and she sobbed openly.

He waited until the second set of ripples eased before he allowed himself to ejaculate inside her. His eyes rolled into the back of his head with pleasure as her body milked his cock gently. When finally, the pleasure ended her fingers unlocked and she released his arms. He slumped down heavily besides her, curling around her equally sweaty, shivering body.

They needed a blanket, he thought hazily, but he didn't have the strength to reach for it. He snuggled closer to her, greedily trying to share her warmth. Her body was damp and soft and, as he curled her into him, a perfect fit.

For the next few minutes there was only the sound of their ragged breathing. When he regained use of his muscles, he reluctantly unwound from her and turned away to get rid of the condom. Then he rolled back to face her. He slid his hand, still sticky with her cum, into her hair to tilt her face towards him. He brushed her lips with his and she tried to pull away.

"No, Veronica," he whispered, his breath still scented with her essence. He used the hand in her hair to hold her head still as he rubbed his lips, still slick and shiny, against hers. She whimpered in protest and he took advantage of her parted lips to thrust his tongue into her mouth. She resisted for a few more seconds then acquiesced with a shuddering sigh. She pressed her warm palm to his cheek and tilted her head, perfecting their lip-lock.

He shifted to lie on top of her and she wound her arms around his neck and accepted his body weight. He released her mouth to drop kisses over her face and hair while she bit lightly on the tendons in his neck. Then he wrapped his arms tightly around her and sunk back into her mouth. When he finally lifted his head, they were both breathing raggedly.

"Okay, Veronica," he said quietly, his voice only slightly unsteady. "Now we talk."


	4. Chapter 4

**When the Cuddling Isn't the Best Part**

**Part IV**

Veronica froze, her post-fuck languidness turning to tightly coiled apprehension. "Get off, Logan!" she ordered harshly.

He should've been prepared for her response. Veronica didn't want to talk. Talking meant opening up emotionally, sharing her vulnerabilities, allowing him to pick up new weapons to use against her. Too often, in their ugly past, that had been what he'd done. He'd found the places where it hurt and pressed relentlessly. Even after their summer together, those times when they'd been so close, she wouldn't willingly lay herself open for attack.

Veronica didn't have an ounce of trust in him, even after making love. But she didn't accept they'd made love. She didn't _want_ to make love with him. She wanted to pretend she was only using him, could be the kind of person who could fuck, have sex without engaging her heart and emotions. But that wasn't her. It wasn't even _him_ when he was with her.

"I already got off, thank you. It was fantastic. And we're going to do it again, soon." He leaned in casually and nuzzled her cheek.

But he watched her cautiously and centered his weight carefully on top of her. He knew that inactivity was not the Veronica way. She was going to erupt any second now. Might as well bring on the confrontation. He got a little deeper into her head each time she snapped at him, unintentionally revealing the places so emotionally tender, she'd fight tooth and nail to protect them.

"But I really want to talk first." He shifted to nip at her now-exposed ear when she turned her head away sharply.

He deliberately kept his voice light and faintly taunting. He was feeling good and more than a little proud of himself. He knew that this time she had been completely satisfied, as least, sexually. She had come twice, _hard_, enjoying the elusive multiple orgasm. He tried not to be too smug about it, knowing that it had only happened because she was so responsive. But dammit, he had _helped_.

"No," she said flatly and began wiggling under him. She tried pushing on his shoulders but he ignored her silent demand to be let lose.

He only had to relax to subdue her, allowing his heavier weight to hold her down. Her breath came out on a frustrated hiss. Her body was tight and tense, ready to fight him, to run if she could. Even after finding release, she still hadn't relaxed and found pleasure, _real_ pleasure. The pleasure of being safe in his arms. There had been a time when she'd giggled and relaxed in his embrace, considering him her safe place. It would take patience on his part to get them back to that level.

"No, what?" he demanded.

She stopped struggling and glared at him. "No, I don't want to talk. There is nothing to talk about."

He snorted. "No? You've been screwing my brains out for the last hour after ignoring me for the past few months and you think there's nothing to talk about?"

She looked up at him, annoyance on her face. "I was just taking you up on your offer."

"What offer?" he asked warily.

"You remember? You proposed a 'one-time, minimal cuddling and no morning-after call' special." She gave him a brittle smile. "I thought about it and decided I liked the offer."

His eyes narrowed. "Sorry, there was a time-lock on that one. I'm not honoring it anymore."

She sighed and tried to look disappointed. "Ahh, the old 'bait and switch' sales scam. I should report you to the Better Business Bureau."

He deliberately ground his hips into hers, emphasizing his dominant position. "Sorry, sweetheart. From the position you're in, the only person you'll be calling is God." He deliberately nipped her chin. "And you'll be begging for more."

Her eyes flashed fury and she tried to shove him away, but they were too close together and her range of motion was too limited for her to maneuver. He caught her wrists in his hands and shook his head.

He grinned at her. "Now, honey, I thought we decided we weren't doing S&M role-playing." He stretched her captured hands straight out to their sides. "No boots, no restraints and no bruises, remember?"

Her eyes flicked to his well-defined bicep and she looked abashed. His heart twisted. Even when angry, glaring at him, she still worried for him. How could she possibly think they were _just_ fucking? People who didn't care for each other didn't see bruises and immediately worry about their partner. But Veronica didn't need to worry. He was fucking _thrilled_ to display her marks. He lazily studied his out-stretched arm and the finger-shaped bruises that were just beginning to form.

He grinned at her again, cocky and confident and oh-so-sure of himself. "Well, no bruises except the ones you leave when you come screaming in my arms."

She glared again and tried to yank her wrists free. "I already told you, I'm not the screaming type."

"Yes, you are," he disagreed smugly. "Don't you remember shrieking when I slammed into you?"

"What?" She stopped struggling and stared at him in genuine confusion.

"It's understandable," he reassured her magnanimously. "You were too busy enjoying the stupendous sex to notice how _hard_ I worked to get you off." He sighed and rolled off of her, curling comfortably at her side. "I'm nothing but a sex object to you, am I?"

That's what she wanted him to be. They both knew she couldn't be that way. Veronica wasn't built for empty sex. She was too warm and generous for that. That's why he'd been able to hurt her so much after Lilly died. No matter what kindness they'd shared over their summer, Veronica still bore the invisible scars of those past battles.

She sat up and turned to glare at him. Her eyes narrowed and it was only the glimpse of the ice forming in those blue orbs that alerted him to the barb she was preparing.

"Yes," she said, her smile as cold as the early-morning waves he liked to surf. "The only thing I want from you is your cock." She tilted her chin, as if preparing for a blow. "Isn't sex your thing, stud?"

He couldn't work up even the slightest irritation for that one. He _had_ left himself wide open for it and didn't care. He was so busy being smug over winning _that_ major battle, having their first time together, that he momentarily forgot the rest of the war. Veronica planned to leave him, like they were only sex. But he wasn't worried. He was a _fucking_ four-star general engaging in this war, of using sex to entice her. He had fought – and won – skirmishes with more skilled opponents than Veronica. The problem was to keep her reacting without causing her to become defensive.

She didn't understand she was the only one fighting. Punching at shadows would wear her out but it wouldn't hurt her. She needed to fight, to feel like she was defending herself. He had to stay calm and allow her to probe him for his weaknesses, too. She had to feel she was getting something from their exchange. Well, something more that just great sex.

He stretched, arms overhead, feet flexed, enjoying the pull on his sated, relaxed muscles. His body felt _good_, lose, limber, _so_ well-fucked. He smiled up at her, a genuine, happy smile. It felt good to _talk_ to her, too, even if they were exchanging taunts. He knew the malice in her words was all for show. And he was more than willing to play with her.

"But, Veronica, you know it's not just about the cock. You've already had _other _cock and it hadn't caused you to scream." He didn't bother to hide the smugness in his voice. He knew he was good. _He_ was the one who was pushing her past her boundaries. "It's the guy powering the cock that makes it work for you. And, sugarpuss, I work for you."

She looked annoyed. "You are so conceited," she snapped.

"Yeah." He smiled at her tenderly. There was no point in denying it. "And you coming in my arms, over and over again, isn't doing a thing to make me any humbler."

He kept his voice light and easy, to lull her into a false sense of calm. As long as she thought he was merely reacting, smug and thoughtless, she wouldn't become defensive. Veronica felt in control when she was on the offensive. Being in control was even more important to her than being safe. He knew he was considered impulsive and reckless, but no one knew about his deep reserve of patience and his ability to project exactly the image people wanted from him.

He was, after all, the offspring of actors and liars.

"But, Logan, of course you're good. This is your specialty." Her smile was sweet but her eyes were still shooting icicles.

"The ability to spoil you for all other men?" He shrugged his shoulders and looked falsely modest. "It's a gift. And I'm damn proud of it."

"I meant meaningless sex," she said dryly.

"Oh, sweetheart, you wound me." He shifted so he could rest his head in her lap. "What we have is not meaningless."

"So, you're saying that if another girl had shown up on your doorstep instead of me, you wouldn't be here with her?" Her voice was tart but her hand still went into his hair, stroking through it as she used to do during their summer together.

"But it wasn't any other girl, it was you," he pointed out. "And you invited yourself up here."

He had to fight to keep his eyes open. He wanted to shut them and relax into the warmth and comfort of her familiar caress. Cuddling wasn't the best part, but it was damn close when he was so content and she was, well, she was _Veronica_.

"That was only the first time. The second time you brought me up here," she defended.

He snorted. "That's because you insulted my performance. I could hardly let you leave without correcting your misconception of my skills."

He turned his head so he could press his lips against her belly. Her skin was warm, soft and damp, the air around them thick with the scent of her, of him and of them. Her curls, pungent with her arousal, tickled his cheek as he turned his head further, sinking deeper into her lower belly.

Veronica stiffened, and her hand tightened fractionally in his hair. He looped his arm around her waist to hold her.

"Well, now I've had the full 'Logan Echolls' experience. I assure you it was one of the greatest thrills of my life." She was trying to be facetious but her voice sounded a little breathless. Was she turned on or nervous? He was a little too close to where she didn't like him to be.

He strung a line of kisses up her belly and felt her relax. "Damn right it was," he purred. "Satisfaction guaranteed."

"You're getting just a little too cocky there, Logan," she admonished, but affectionately. "I've slept with you, remember? It wasn't until the third time that you performed…adequately."

"Adequately?" he snickered. "Honey bunch, you screamed when you came the last time." He ran his hand down his body, across his shoulders, over the nipple she had sucked all too briefly, down his flat, rippling belly and stopped on his hip, right next the cock that had been _more than adequate_.

When she didn't respond, he looked up at her knowingly. She was staring at his dick, almost mesmerized. He wanted to savor the moment but his cock jerked in response to her gaze and broke her out of her trance. His sweet, innocent Veronica didn't understand how far gone he was for her, how she could make him react with just her gaze. She wanted to find his vulnerabilities but she didn't know where to look.

It took her a second to pick up their conversation. "First you said I shrieked when you slammed me. Now I screamed?" Her coolly amused voice was a sharp contrast to the heat in her eyes. "Next you'll be telling me I was singing the _Hallelujah Chorus_."

She tilted her head at him. "Odd that you were so fabulous and I don't remember it. I was there, wasn't I?" she questioned sweetly.

He sat up and turned to her, frowning with annoyance. "Well, then. I guess we're just going to have to go again and this time, I'll make sure you pay attention," he responded flatly.

She raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. "Oh, is this your charming way of saying that you want my company for a little while longer?"

"Charming? Now you want charming?" He leaned over and kissed her lips chastely. "I thought you only wanted a good fuck, or in this case, a great fuck." He kissed her again, little baby kisses to keep her relaxed and in the moment.

This was how their summer together had been. Soft, sweet kisses, fleeting, insubstantial moments of connection that allowed them to hide from the shitstorm that surrounded them. Part of the reason he'd never pushed Veronica was because he'd been grateful to have what they had, a place away from the harsh, jagged pain of realty. Neither had demanded much from the other, sex or communication, too afraid to risk losing their fragile connection.

He kept his kisses light, allowing her to set the pace. She was the one who finally caught his head in her hands and kissed him properly. He shifted closer and opened his mouth for her. She rose up on her knees and thrust her tongue into his mouth, forcing his head back. Veronica was trying to take control by being the aggressor. She wasn't in control but she could be as aggressive as she wanted to be. He'd take her any way he could get her.

He would have smiled if she hadn't been sucking so hard on his mouth. As it was, he simply leaned back on his elbows, allowing her to control the kiss. When she finally tore her mouth from his, they were both starved for air.

"I agree, Logan. You are a great fuck," she gasped, sitting back.

"Better than Duncan?"

Veronica froze and stared at him in shock. He was shocked himself. He hadn't meant to ask. It had just slipped out of his mouth.

"What?" she asked in an airless whisper.

"Am I better than Duncan?" he asked again, quietly.

"I don't want to talk about Duncan." She reached down to the foot of the bed and grabbed the blanket, pulling it up between them, covering herself.

"But I do." He didn't really want to talk about Duncan, he wanted to talk about Duncan's relationship with Veronica. More specifically, he wanted to know why she was sometimes so hesitant and unsure of herself sexually.

He really wanted to know if he had to find Duncan and beat the shit out of him.

She pulled the blanket tighter over her breasts. "My relationship with Duncan is private. All you need to know is that it's over now."

"No, I need to know a lot more," he disagreed gently.

"I'm not talking about Duncan," she said stubbornly.

"Why not?" he demanded.

"Because it's none of your business," she snapped.

None of his business? He wanted everything about her to be his business. He wanted her to share her life, her problems, her body and her _business_. He was paying, with interest, for the snipes he'd directed at her after she'd broken up with him.

"It's totally my goddamn business," he argued. "It affects how you behave in bed with me."

"One has _nothing_ to do with the other," she dismissed.

"Really? Then tell me why you won't let me go down on you."

She blinked in confusion. "I did let you go down on me," she reminded him tartly.

"Like hell," he responded. "You flinched when I went down on you."

She wouldn't meet his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah, you do. Every time I put my tongue on your clit you tried to push me away. Why? Didn't _Duncan_ ever go down on you?"

"That's none of your business," she snapped again.

"Oh, yes, it is. You're fucking me now and I want you to enjoy it. If he didn't do that for you, I need to know." Logan wanted her to enjoy being with him so much that she would never even consider being with anyone but him ever again.

"But we're finished now," she pointed out. "There's no need for a long and detailed post-mortem. I'll say you were good and you'll say I was good and we'll leave it at that."

His upper lip curled into a sneer. "So, you're telling me Duncan was good."

Her lips compressed into a thin line and she glared at him. "If you're waiting for me to say something bad about Duncan, don't hold your breath," she advised.

"Why?" he snarled. "Was Prince Duncan everything you ever dreamed of?"

The green-eyed monster rode him hard. Duncan didn't deserve to have Veronica's loyalty, just like he didn't deserve to have Veronica's love. Duncan had never worked for her, for anything, in his life. Duncan, the golden child, walking around in a self-absorbed haze, accustomed to having everything handed to him on a silver platter.

Logan was the one who had worked, who had fought, who had lost. Logan was the one who always had everything taken away from him. And now it was going to end. No one was going to take from Logan Echolls again.

"Oh wait." His voice was as cold and as sharp as a dagger. "Duncan couldn't be all that wonderful. He never cared enough about you. He never made sure you were safe or protected or happy."

Veronica's face lost all color and she gasped. But he couldn't see her through the jealous haze clouding his eyes.

"Duncan doesn't have a clue about what you need, emotionally or sexually," Logan continued ruthlessly. "I bet he never went down on you even once. But you spent most of your time on your knees in front of him." He gave her an icy smile. "Didn't you, Veronica?"

Veronica blinked several times, looking pale and shaken. "Fine," she finally snarled. "Yes, Duncan went down on me and, yes, he was _really_ good at it."

He froze. That was _so_ not what he wanted to hear.

"He _was_?" Logan tried to keep the disbelief out of his voice. Then he asked in a smaller voice. "Better than me?"

Veronica pressed her lips together and refused to look at him.

"Was he?" Now jealousy was warring with the disbelief in his voice.

_No way._ There was no possible way Duncan could be better than _him_. Duncan had only been with Veronica. And he was sure that time he ran into Veronica at the Neptune Grand had been their first time, well, their first _real time_ together.

"Why do you ask these things?" Veronica demanded, turning back to him. "When you know you don't want to hear the answer."

"So, you _do_ think he was better than me." How _the fuck_ was that even possible?

She sighed, the anger draining out of her. "If it makes you feel any better, he had a lot more experience."

Logan snorted. "Uh, no way, snookums. I've been at it a lot longer than he has."

Veronica glared at him. "I meant he had a lot more experience with _me_."

"Not possible. You two were only together for a couple of months and you wouldn't let him go down the first day you…" His voice trailed off and he inhaled a deep breath. "You mean from before Lilly died, don't you?" he said flatly.

She nodded.

He had no idea why that hit him so hard. He had no right to be upset. He had been having stupendous sex with Lilly while Duncan had still been learning how to please Veronica.

"Wow, and here I thought you two spent your free time together holding hands and talking." He hadn't meant to sound so sarcastic but he was _reeling_. Sweet, virginal Veronica Mars had been slowly giving it up to Duncan Kane right under his nose and he hadn't seen it.

Veronica's mouth curved into a gentle smile of remembrance and jealousy shot through him like a bolt of lightening.

"We did hold hands and talk," she admitted with an embarrassed shrug. "Duncan would always hold my hand and, in the beginning, I was so nervous I would babble constantly. And Duncan would hum in response so I could pretend I was making sense and that he was listening to me. After I stopped being nervous, I realized how it…enhanced the experience when he hummed. So, I kept talking to keep him humming."

"Humming, huh?" Logan muttered.

Yeah, he could see that. Back in those days Duncan had been so in love with Veronica that he had been stupid with it. If sweet, _virginal_ Veronica had asked him to go down on her, Duncan would have slid between her thighs and not even considered coming up for air, even if he passed out from lack of oxygen.

"But that night of the homecoming dance, we played _Truth or Dare_. You and Duncan both drank saying you were virgins." And he, Logan, had _laughed_. Laughed because he'd been happy to be with his best friends, laughed because he had been young and alive, but also laughed because he'd thought Veronica and Duncan were silly and sweet and stupid for still being virgins.

"We still were, barely." Veronica shrugged and her mouth curved into a sweet smile at the memory.

"Barely." The word felt bitter on his tongue. He remembered that night, how Veronica had curled up in Duncan's lap in the limo, relaxed and trusting. The signs had been there but _Logan_ had been too innocent to see them.

Back then Logan's only experience with sex had been Lilly. Lilly had been heat and fire, a passion that was explosive and uncontained. He hadn't understood the sweet and gentle trust that had been between Veronica and Duncan. He hadn't understood _then _that the sexual connection could be tender and fiercely protective, as well as being wild and uncontrollable.

"Did Lilly know?" he asked quietly.

Veronica gave him a wry grin. "About how far Duncan and I had gone? No, never. Duncan was terrified that, if Lilly ever found out, she would critique us and give us advice." She shook her head. "I wouldn't have put it past Lilly to demand we give her a demonstration."

It was Logan's turn to shake his head. And to think he had secretly laughed at Duncan, smug in thinking that the other boy hadn't been getting any. Now it turned out that Duncan had been getting what Logan would do almost anything to have.

Duncan had been getting _Veronica's_ _love_.

So how had the connection between Duncan and Veronica been severed? They had been so _together_. One day, walking down the hallway, kissing and cuddling, then the next day Duncan could barely even look at her.

Veronica had never told him what caused her breakup with Duncan, not that he had ever pressed. Hell, Logan had never pressed Veronica for _anything_, not the truth, not sex, not even real explanations. He had just let her go when she said she wanted to be free. Then Veronica had severed her ties to him, just as quickly and bloodlessly as Duncan had severed his ties to her.

_It seemed that Veronica and Duncan had taught each other a lot of bad habits._

Logan tried to bring the conversation – and himself – back from such painful thoughts. "So, if Lilly and I hadn't been with you that night, the next time we played _Truth or Dare_, neither of you would have taken a drink for that one."

She looked away sadly. "If there had been a next time," she said softly.

_If._

If Lilly hadn't died. If Duncan and Veronica hadn't broken up. If Lilly had never fucked Aaron. If the fragile prism that had been his happiness hadn't been shattered into a million irretrievable pieces. A streak of pain, worse than anything he had felt before, made him shudder.

He saw Veronica's eyes widen as she leaned in closer. He pushed away from her.

_Fuck._ This was not working out the way he planned. _She _was the one who was supposed to open up and release her secrets, not him. They both already knew his soul was a bleeding, gaping wound, torn open by years of belt whippings and betrayals, cigarette burns and cheap sex, broken noses and broken promises.

"Logan?" Her voice was gentle and concerned as she leaned over him.

Her warm, soft hand was on his back and he flinched away from her.

She jerked away as if he had struck her. She bit down on her trembling lower lip and gathered the blanket around her. "I'm sorry, Logan. I'll go now," she said quietly.

He stared at her as she slid off the bed. It was a replay of every time they were together. She was there for the good times but left just before the bad times. Or maybe she _was_ the good times and her leaving brought on the bad times. He didn't know. He only knew that he was feeling very, very tired.

"Why do you always do this, Veronica?" he asked quietly.

"Do what, Logan?" She looked down at the floor.

"Why do you always leave me?" His voice was harsh and raw as he asked the terrible question that had plagued his entire life.

Why did people always leave him? Lilly, his mother and Veronica, they were all supposed to love him but they all left him. What was wrong with him that he couldn't hold the women he loved?

Veronica looked over at him and softly, as though afraid to spook him, said, "I was trying to give you some space."

"Space?" He tried to laugh, but it came out sounding more like a sob. "Look around you, Veronica. I've got nothing _but_ space. I live alone in a fucking mansion. There are rooms in this place I haven't ever even been in. I don't need any more _space_."

She stepped hesitantly towards the bed. "Do you want me to stay, Logan?"

He looked at her, brown eyes burning with the pain of a lifetime of losing. "I never wanted you to leave in the first place."

She sucked in her breath and put her knee on the mattress. She looked anxiously into his eyes, as though unsure of her welcome. He held out his hand to her and she took it. He looked down at her hand, so tiny and fragile in his. He closed his fingers gently, reverently over her delicate little bones.

She put her other knee on the mattress, then crossed the soft surface awkwardly until she was able to straddle his hips. She unwound the blanket and let it fall, then leaned forward and gently placed her hands on his chest.

She looked into his eyes again, as though waiting for permission. He looked at her solemnly. She held his gaze as she leaned down and aligned their bodies, forehead to forehead, chest to breast, heart to heart.

She slid her hands into his hair and pressed her lips to his. He relaxed and concentrated on breathing, content to let her lead.

She licked the seam of his lips lightly and he opened his mouth for her. She slid her tongue into his mouth and he met it with his own. She ran her hands through his hair and he wrapped his arms around her body.

It was a surreal experience. She was so gentle with him, almost as though he were a virgin. He felt exposed and vulnerable in a way he hadn't during his actual first time. That had been about heat and passion and excitement, a teenage boy's rush to ejaculate inside of something wet and warm.

This was about love and pain and acceptance, a battered young man's need to be whole, to rebuild something from the shattered life around him. Before had been sex with his body, now it was making love with his heart.

A heart that was in the care of a woman who didn't have much experience at having and keeping and guarding something so precious. But maybe that's why they needed to be together. Neither of them had much experience at having and holding hearts. Maybe that's what made it easier for them to forgive each other when they fumbled.

When she finally released his mouth, it was tingling and felt bruised. She slid down his body, nibbling at his neck, licking at his collarbone, running her tongue over his chest. He held his breath when her mouth stroked over his nipple. He released it when he felt the familiar delicate swirl around his areola.

His hips rose instinctively and she settled carefully so that he could stroke against her damp folds. This was still a novel experience. He had only thrust against her with clothes on when she sucked his nipples over their summer together. This was so much better, no rough denim or slippery cotton to dampen the effect.

While the effect wasn't dampened, other things were. The warm wetness of arousal permeated the air around them with its thick, heavy scent. He heard a strong steady rumble, not the soft kitten purr that Veronica made, but rather a deep, almost growl that should come from a mountain lion. He was startled to realize that the purring was coming from his own throat.

Veronica could make him purr like he could make her purr.

She lifted her head from his nipple and he immediately stopped purring. He brought his hand to her head and carefully sifted her hair away from her face. She smiled at him reassuringly and stretched out her hand.

He turned his head to see what she was reaching for and watched her pick up a condom packet. She tore it open with her teeth and held out the rubber for him. "I think little Logan wants to play."

He snorted. "Little Logan isn't all that little." But there was no offense in his words.

It took him longer than necessary to roll the condom onto his dick, mainly because he was enjoying brushing against her pussy. She bit her lower lip as his knuckle pressed into her clit.

"Need some help there, Logan?" she asked sweetly.

He deliberately sunk his knuckle into her slippery vagina. "No, I think I got it."

She hissed. "Well, hurry up before you really get it," she threatened, but it was hard to be intimidated by her when she was naked and wet and slippery.

He grinned up at her, the perfect choirboy. "I got it," he announced proudly.

She shook her head at him briefly before carefully sinking down on him. Logan had to shut his eyes against the intense pleasure of being back inside her tight, wet body.

Once he was fully seated inside her, she relaxed and carefully bent back down to his chest.

She pressed a row of damp kisses across his chest, stringing from the well-loved nipple to the waiting one. And then her wonderful swirling tongue began to work its magic again. His hips rocked against her in time to the steady pulls from her tongue.

But then Veronica did something different. She bit down on him and his entire body jerked. His _entire_ body, including the cock that was buried inside her aroused but not ready body. She had never bitten him before, always being gentle and careful with his battered, still-healing body.

What was it about Veronica that the physical pain she administered only translated into pleasure in his fucked-up mind?

"Shit, Veronica." He gritted his teeth and tried to get himself back under control. But she was too tight, too wet, too exactly what he wanted for him to stop.

"I'm sorry," he gasped out as he flipped their positions, turning them so he could rise above her and thrust deeply. "I'm sorry."

Her arms slid around his waist and she hugged him to her. "Don't worry, it's alright," she assured him.

It wasn't all right, she wasn't going to go over with him. She wasn't ready and he wasn't able to wait. He wanted them to go together, he needed them to go together. He needed to have Veronica with him.

He tried to pull himself back but she tilted her hips for him and spread her thighs widely for him and cradled him when he collapsed heavily on her. She ran her fingers gently through his hair as she held him to her heart and let him come down in her arms.

"Logan," she finally said, her voice gentle and warm. "You're too heavy."

He sighed. He really was too heavy for her tiny frame. He rolled away and got rid of the condom, his hands still shaking a little. He curled into her side and snagged the blanket with his foot. He wiggled down to reach for it and Veronica shivered. He flipped the thin wool cover over their cooling bodies.

Well, his cooling body, she didn't have a chance to heat up.

"I am so sorry, Veronica," he apologized again as he settled besides her and drew her close, wrapping her in the warmth of his arms and the soft blanket.

She grinned at him, not looking the least bit angry or put out. "Let me guess. This never happened to you before, right?" she teased gently. "Or, at least, not in the last half hour."

He could feel hot color wash over his face. "I'll make it up to you, I promise." He dropped random kisses onto her hair, neck and shoulder.

He stroked his hand down her body, over her flat tummy and into the wet curls. She sucked in her breath sharply and he stopped.

He raised his head to look down at her. "Too tender?"

"Yeah, give me a couple of minutes." She relaxed into the warmth of the blanket and his body heat.

He ran his hand soothingly down her side. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Veronica froze and stared at him.

"What?" he asked anxiously.

"What did you call me?" Her voice was low and airless.

"I called you 'baby'." He smiled tenderly and rose up on his elbow to cup his head on his hand. He ran his other hand over her warm, damp body, careful to keep his touch light. He couldn't stop touching her.

She turned her head away. "Don't call me that."

He frowned. "Why not? That's what I used to call you. You didn't object to it before."

She pushed his hand away. "Different time, different place, different people." She wouldn't look at him.

He stiffened, finally picking up her tension that his post-fuck daze had hidden from him. "The time was different," he agreed. "It was last summer, but we were still in this bed and we were still _us_."

"We're not those people anymore, Logan," she disagreed, head still turned away from him. "Those two people were puppets being jerked around by their strings. I don't want to be that person anymore."

"Then we won't be," he agreed quickly. "We'll be us, now."

"There is no 'us'. There can't be an 'us'." Suddenly she was a flurry of motion, trying to throw off his arms and the blanket, trying to wiggle out of his bed. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her waist and threw his leg over hers.

"Veronica, what's wrong? What did I do?" He sounded desperate. He _was_ desperate. She was _fighting_ to escape his arms. "Baby, calm down."

She gasped and tried to pull free. "Knock if off, Logan. I'm leaving now."

"Hell, no," he snarled. "You do not fuck me when you want, then walk out on me. It doesn't work that way. _We_ don't work that way."

"It's the only way I'll have you, Logan." She wrenched hard and grunted with the effort.

"Veronica, stop it. You're going to hurt yourself," he snapped, trying to hold her without causing her pain.

She stopped struggling and looked him directly in the eyes. "No, Logan, I don't hurt myself. _You _hurt me."

His mouth and his muscles went slack with shock. "What?"

She took advantage of his shock and scrambled out of his arms. He made no move to recapture her as she slid out of his bed.

As soon as she was on her feet, she looked around frantically. "Where are my clothes?" she demanded.

That brought him out of his stupor. He threw back the blanket and stood up beside her. She took a wary step back. He frowned at her. He took a step closer to her and she skipped back a few more steps.

"What the hell is this?" he snarled. "Ten minutes ago, I was inside you and now you're backing away from me?"

"You're angry," she pointed out unnecessarily.

"And you think I shouldn't be?" he demanded. "You just said I'm nothing but a fuck for you."

"That's what we agreed on." Her hands were in constant motion, trying to simultaneously push her hair off her face, cover her breasts and shield her curls. She wasn't successful at any of it.

"No, Veronica, I didn't agree to any such thing." He bent down and grabbed the closest thing he could reach. Fortunately, it was one of his button-down shirts, relatively clean. He held it out to her. She looked suspiciously from his face to the shirt then back to his face.

"Oh, come on, Veronica. What do you think I'm going to do to you?" Logan snapped. An icy finger of dread slid down his spine and he stared at her in disbelief. "Do you think I'm going to hit you?" he asked in a horrified whisper.

Veronica immediately shook her head. "No, that's not your way, Logan."

"Then what are you so afraid of?" he demanded. He began to breathe harshly. Dear God, was that why she didn't want to be with him? Had he said something, _done_ something that made her think he could be like Aaron?

"Logan?" she asked anxiously. "Are you okay?" She took a tentative step closer to him.

This time he was the one to step back. "You think I'm like my father, don't you?"

"No," she answered with complete conviction, her fluttering hands coming to rest on her flat belly. "I don't believe you would ever hit me."

"But you do think I would hurt you." There were lots ways to hurt a person. Logan had experienced so many of them that he couldn't even count them all.

"You have hurt me, Logan," she reminded him quietly, sliding her arms tightly around her waist.

The gesture caused a sharp pain in his heart, as he watched her try to comfort herself. _She had him, dammit_. He would hold her and comfort her if she would only come into his arms. He stepped close to her.

"That was a long time ago," he said desperately." I was so messed up when Lilly died. You know how sorry I am for treating you like that. You forgave me for that," he reminded her.

She shook her head. "No, I never forgave you," she admitted. "I just ignored it and put it away until you forced all those feelings to come back."

He crumpled the shirt in his hands. "What do you mean?"

Her face was pinched and her eyes filled with tears. She shuddered visibly and goose bumps broke out on her arms. He took the shirt by the collar and held it open for her. She hesitated briefly before turning her back to him and slipping her arms into the sleeves.

He swayed with the force of his relief. She wasn't afraid of him. If she were afraid of him then she would never have turned her back on him. He let the soft cotton drop lightly onto her shoulders and tunneled his hands under her long blond hair, pulling it free of the collar.

He slid his hands down her back then around her waist, pulling her close to him. "What do you mean you 'put it away'?" he asked quietly, snuggling her back to his chest.

She sagged against him for a moment then pulled free. "I don't want to talk about it. It's all in the past."

"It's not in the past, Veronica. It's right here, right now, between us," he pointed out. "And it's going to stay between us until we deal with it."

"I don't want to deal with it." She turned to face him, shoving the sleeves up her arms so she could clench the sides of his shirt tightly in her little fists. She repeated her previous gesture, wrapping her arms tightly around herself, wrapping the shirt around her body.

His shirt fell almost to her knees and barely skimmed her slight form. It made him realize how tiny she really was, how fragile and easily she could be broken. Her enormous personality dwarfed her tiny frame and her hard-candy shell made her appear invulnerable. But they both knew the shell for the insubstantial protection it really was.

"We have to deal with it," he said quietly. He ran his hands lightly up and down her arms. "We'll never be able to make things work between us if we don't deal with this."

She pulled away. "I don't want to work things out between us," she said harshly. "I want to end things between us."

His mouth fell open. "What?" he finally gasped out.

She raised her chin defiantly. "I want a clean break between us, Logan. Fighting with you doesn't work, dating you doesn't work and ignoring you doesn't work. The only option I have left is to bring whatever this is to its crisis point and maybe then it will subside."

He stared at her in befuddled confusion. "You make it sound like what we have is some sort of disease."

She looked desperate. "It is a disease, Logan. It's unhealthy. It's not normal to want to be with a person who hates you."

He froze. _She hated him?_ How could she hate him? She had made love with him. She had kissed him and held him and made him feel safe and whole and alive. How could she do that if she _hated_ him?

His heart was beating so fast he felt dizzy. His pulse was pounding so loudly that he could barely hear anything else. There was a familiar metallic taste in the back of his throat, of fear and dread and disbelief. He used to have this terrible reaction to Aaron's beatings, before he learned how to numb himself to it.

Now Veronica, a tiny, fragile slip of a girl, had brought it all back with her tears and her pain and her fears. And Logan felt it more acutely than he had ever felt it under Aaron's powerful and merciless hands.

He felt light-headed. "You _hate_ me?" he repeated through numb lips.

She shook her head and a tear slipped down her cheek. "No, Logan, _you_ hate _me_."


	5. Chapter 5

**When the Cuddling Isn't the Best Part**

**Part V**

Logan stared at her in open-mouthed shock, not sure that he had even heard her correctly. She stepped back until she was leaning against the wall, as though her legs could no longer support the weight of her body _and_ her fears. Another tear slipped from her other eye and a soft sob escaped Veronica's lips.

It was that soft sound of despair that released him from the shock that had held him immobile. He crossed to her side, cupped her face and tilted her chin to look to at him.

"Explain to me just what the hell you're talking about," he demanded.

She tried to pull away but he held fast to her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. Tear-filled blue eyes, filled with hopeless resignation, meet clear brown eyes, filled with fire and determination.

Veronica's entire body began to shake and he forced his own fears down to comfort her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. For a moment, she laid her head on his shoulder and allowed him to hold her.

_Thank God._ He didn't know how he could have handled this if she hadn't allowed him to hold her. He nuzzled her temple and rocked her in his arms, like his mother had done for him, after Aaron's rages. The memory brought bile to his throat and he pushed it back with effort.

"You're not making any sense. How could you ever think I hate you?" He tried to keep his voice low and soothing. "What is this about, baby?"

"Don't call me 'baby'," she whimpered. "I'm not your baby."

"Yes, you are." He tightened his hold on her and stroked her hair. She was shaking like a leaf in a storm. "And you always will be."

Her tears were still wetting his shoulder but her shaking eased. She was still leaning into him, _on him_. What the hell was going on in her head? How long had she been thinking this shit? What could possibly make her think that he hated her?

Yes, he'd sniped at her when she was with Duncan but that wasn't hate. It was jealousy and despair. At least, before Veronica, when the women he loved left him, they died. Death was final but it was easier. He didn't have to see them, know they were moving on with their lives while he was left behind, so numb and empty, it felt like he'd died, too.

"I shouldn't have come here," she finally said, lifting her head from his shoulder, pulling away.

_Trying_ to pull away but he wasn't going to allow that. He cupped the back of her head and held her to his shoulder. She had been pulling away from him for far too long. Did she really think he was going to allow it now, after all they had shared? Well, she was too smart to even think that.

They played a brief game of tug-of-war, where she tried to pull free and he held on tightly. Abruptly, she stopped fighting him – _finally_ – and wrapped her arms around his waist. She took in a deep breath and held it, and held him.

"Veronica, no more." He kept his voice low and gentle, but there was no mistaking his determination. "You are not leaving here until you explain everything."

"Everything?" She stiffened a bit, but didn't try to pull away again.

"Everything." He went back to stroking her hair. It was like silk and he loved to run his fingers through it. "Why you _really _broke up with me this summer, why you went back to Duncan and why you came here today. Why you could _possibly _think that I hate you."

Veronica bit her lower lip and stepped back. He allowed her the space but couldn't keep his muscles from tightening, instinct preparing him to catch her when she tried to run. _No more running_. She was going to stay here and they were going to have this out. But she didn't run, she only wrapped her arms around her middle and looked down.

"I told you why I went back to Duncan. I was fixing something that was broken. I already explained that Duncan and I never had a chance to finish our relationship." She pulled his shirt tightly around herself, hiding her naked body from him as she spoke of Duncan, just as she had done before.

"So, your relationship with him was more important than me?" The pain, the _unfairness,_ of their break up rushed back to him. He had done _everything _for Veronica and she had dumped him cold.

He grimaced and laughed at himself. Stupid question. Of course, Duncan was more important to Veronica than he was. Didn't her every action prove that?

"We had already broken up before I went back to Duncan," she pointed out quietly, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Didn't take you long, did it?" he snapped bitterly.

It wasn't just that she left him for Duncan. It was that she left him without a backwards glance. Like he had ceased to exist. She'd known how fragile he'd been at the time, he'd still had visible bruises, for God's sake. And she hadn't bothered to call him even _once_ after she left him.

"I'm not asking you to understand." She still wouldn't look at him. Was it the guilt, knowing how badly she had treated him, that kept her eyes downcast?

"But I want to understand." It was through a force a will that he kept his voice from cracking. "I need to understand. Understand how you could leave me when you knew all I had was you."

Even now, so many months later, the pain was still fresh. It felt like it was yesterday, with him holding on to the only security he had, with her ruthlessly tearing it away.

He could taste his own bitterness. Yeah, there was a part of him that resented her and yeah, there was a part of him that wanted to hurt her. _That_ was the part of him that convinced him that an affair with Kendall was okay. But there wasn't a single part of him that hated her.

There was too much love for her inside him to ever allow him to hate her.

"You had Dick and your 09er buddies and your war with the PCHers," she snapped back. "_That's _what was important to you."

"And you thought they were more important to me than you?" he asked incredulously. His friends had his time for a few hours, but Veronica had his life. There was no comparing the two.

"When it came to it, you chose them over me, didn't you?" She sounded angry and accusatory, as though the whole mess had been _his _fault. "When I asked you to stop running around with them and allow things to go back to normal, you wouldn't.

"_Normal_?" The indignation nearly choked him. "When has my life been normal? When was the last time _your_ life has been normal? How the hell did you expect to get from where we were to _normal_? Normal is a fucking fairy tale, Veronica._ We are not meant to be normal._"

"But you wouldn't even try." Now she sounded petulant, like it had all been simple, all been black and white, and he had just been difficult. Did she think that he didn't want her to be happy? Or that he hadn't done his damnedest to protect and defend her?

"How could I try? I had a body that ached from all the broken bones. I had summer school, a biker gang on my ass and a murder rap hanging over my head. I had a dead girlfriend, my psychopath father as her killer and you wanted me to pretend nothing was wrong? I needed you. I needed you to be with me, to support me, but you didn't." He was trying so hard to keep the pain and accusation out of his voice and be reasonable about something that wasn't reasonable to begin with.

"I know. I know you hate me and I'm sorry for what I did to make your life worse." She reached out for him and stepped closer. But she didn't touch him. She stopped a few inches away and stared at him with hesitation, remorse and tears shining in her eyes. "But Logan, you didn't make it any better, either. Maybe hate is the only thing that can survive between us."

"No!"

He didn't even have to think about it. The answer was instinctive, as much a part of his psyche as his scars and the relentless determination to rise above everything people threw at him. He was capable of strong emotions and even stronger retaliation, but he wasn't stupid. He knew what was valuable, what he needed to save, to be whole. Veronica fit into the jagged parts of his soul, made the sharp edges less painful, less able to bleed him.

Logan stared at the distance between them, just a few scant inches physically, but a chasm emotionally. If he leaned forward just a little bit, he could be in her arms. But he was sick and tired of doing the leaning, of being the one who always gave in.

Veronica needed to come to him. Without reservations and without keeping those few _fucking_ inches between them. Why wouldn't she? What kept her from taking that final, small step?

"I don't hate you, Veronica," He said quietly, bitterly disappointed that, even now, she wouldn't take the final step back to him. "I am angry and disappointed and fucking pissed off at you, but I don't hate you. If I hated you, do you think I could have made love to you?"

"That wasn't love, it was sex." She said the words but they both knew them for what they were. Another lie to keep them apart, to protect her from…_from what?_

"It was love." _No more hiding from the truth, Veronica._ "It wasn't about physical need. It was about being with you and being held by you. It was about the fact that you live in my head and my heart." Why was he being so honest with her when she was working so hard to keep the truth from him?

What was it in him that he couldn't protect himself from her anymore? There had been a time when he had been so well inoculated from Veronica Mars that he could blithely smash her headlights or bait her about her mother and not break a sweat. Now he couldn't even lie to her.

And, because he couldn't lie to her, he told her the truth. And it was like blood flowing out from a cut. A Veronica-sized cut in his heart. Who knew something that tiny could bleed so much?

Well, if she was going to bleed him dry, might as well get it over with.

"I dream about you, Veronica," he continued ruthlessly. "I don't dream about Lilly or Kendall or anybody else. I dream about you, just like you dream about me."

He didn't need to see the stiffening of her body to confirm she dreamed about him, too. Their connection was too strong. Some kind of bizarre chemical reaction had occurred that night when she had cradled his broken body in her arms. It was as though they had traded bits of their souls in those moments, so now they carried a part of each other inside them.

"I needed you to be with me and you needed to live in a fantasy. And I can't give you that fantasy," he finished sadly. He smiled without humor and shook his head. "Sorry, sweetheart, no fairy dust here."

The worst part was that he _wanted_ to give her the fantasy. He wanted to give her palm trees and lazy days and life without pain and problems. But he couldn't. Not that he wouldn't, he _couldn't_.

She nodded sadly. "I just needed it all to stop for a while. And you wouldn't let it stop."

"It won't stop. I can't make it stop," he defended himself. "Don't you understand? I am the center of it all. Don't you think I want it to stop?" he demanded.

She stared at him, unconvinced. He shook his head in disgust.

"Do you think I want this, Veronica?" He suddenly felt tired and defeated, too. "Do you think I want a life that is totally out of control?" He walked over and sank down onto the bed. "Half the time, I don't even know up from down. There are days when it takes everything I have just to get out of bed in the morning."

"So, you started finding ways to motivate yourself." She hesitated for a beat then sank down beside him onto the bed. "Stupid, reckless, dangerous ways." She shook her head and looked at him. "We are so messed up, Logan. We're just too good at hurting each other, at hating each other."

"I'm angry with you, Veronica, so fucking angry." It felt good to say it, to put some of his own truths out there. "But I don't hate you. You have to know I don't hate you."

She was silent for a moment then her face pinched with pain. She took a shaky breath and blurted out. "Yes, you do. I know you do. You _have_ to. I'm the one who's responsible for the hell that your life has turned into, just as you're responsible for mine. We're ruining each other."

He shook his head. "Leaving me didn't make anything better but you aren't responsible for any of this." He threw his arm out listlessly, encompassing the rumbled bed, the messy bedroom, _hell,_ his messy life. "We're not ruining each other. We're not better off when we're apart. I don't hold you responsible for my shit."

"But I am, Logan," she argued. "You're proof of that."

"What? How?" He shook his head. What the hell was she talking about?

"I was so blinded by my desire for justice for Lilly that I didn't see anything else." She shook her head and her hands tightened on his shirt. "If I had been more careful or less blind then you wouldn't have been on that bridge and Felix wouldn't have died and this whole war wouldn't have started."

"You don't know that." He could see her nails digging into her palms. He reached for her and tried to pry her hands off the shirt.

"Yes, I do." Tears refilled her eyes and she looked at him with sadness and an aching pain that looked dangerously close to acceptance. "I didn't even try to face it. I kept trying to pretend that everything was _normal_, but I knew it wasn't, no matter how hard I tried. I tried to protect you, I tried to make you back down, but you wouldn't."

She suddenly opened her fists and began pushing against his shoulders with her palms. "Dammit, Logan, why didn't you ever back down? Why wasn't I that important to you?"

He ignored her efforts to push him away and caught her hands. "You _were_ that important to me. You're why I wouldn't back down."

"No, I wasn't. But I understand." Suddenly the fight drained out of her. "I know why you didn't fight for me, didn't fight for _us_."

"What? What kind of bullshit is this?" he demanded.

Didn't fight for them? _Everything_ he had done was for her, for them. How could she think like this?

"I didn't trust you." Tears fell from her eyes and the words spilled out of her. "I should have gone to you before I let my dad go to Lamb. Then you would never have been on the bridge. How could you not blame me for everything that went wrong? Logan, it's okay. I _understand_."

"Understand what? None of this was your fault, Veronica." He released her hands and caught her elbows, pulling her up so they were on their knees, facing each other.

"Yes, it was," she insisted. "I didn't trust you, Logan. If I had trusted you, you wouldn't have been alone that night and you wouldn't have gotten hurt."

"Veronica, that was my choice." He wanted to shake her, shake her until she started making sense. But, of course, he didn't. So he kept talking, trying to make her see reason with his words.

"I _chose_ to get drunk and to drive out to that bridge," he pointed out. "It was a stupid choice but it was my choice. And the truth is that I didn't give you a whole lot of reasons to trust me. I lied about my alibi and treated you like shit for a year. There was so much bad blood and so many secrets between us. A few kisses weren't enough to change that."

"I don't think anything will be enough to change that," she said tiredly. "I tried to be the supportive girlfriend and pretend everything was okay and _normal_," she practically spat out the word, "but you wouldn't go along with it."

"I couldn't go along with it. They shot at you, Veronica. How was I supposed to let that go?" He had felt so close to Veronica that night. She had glowed with joy when he had told her he was falling in love with her. Then that damn shot had blasted their relationship apart.

"You didn't do it for me," she disagreed.

"Then why else would I do it? What do you think meant more to me than us? Veronica, I love you." If this was his last stand, he was going to go down fighting all the way. "I love you, I'm _in_ love with you. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

She pulled back and swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Love me? How can you love me, Logan? _I ruined your life just as you ruined mine_." There was something wild in her eyes, rage and remorse and resignation. "We destroyed each other, even when we tried to be together."

She pulled her elbows free and slid down onto the bed. She pulled his shirt closer around herself as though she was cold. She huddled in a shivering little heap, guilt, remorse and bitter acceptance glistening in her overflowing eyes.

She began speaking again, her voice thin and harsh, as though it hurt to say the words. "I was the one who put Aaron in jail, I was the one who showed you the video of your mother's body splashing into the water, I was the one who practically sicced Weevil's gang on you and I was the one _you couldn't love enough to choose over your vendetta._"

She looked at him, resignation heavy in her brimming blue eyes. "I was never enough, was I, Logan? I couldn't love you enough, or help you enough, or protect you enough. The only thing I was ever good enough for was being your enemy. So, if that's all I can do you for you, then that's fine. No more polite truce, no more half-hearted jabs. If we're going to hate each other, then let's do it right."

Logan snorted and stared at her in disbelief. Was she actually serious about this shit? Did she really think he could just turn around and belittle her now? After he had held her, loved her and watched her come apart in his arms? When seeing the flush in her cheeks and slumberous warmth in her eyes empowered and humbled him at the same time? Did she think he could really do that to her?

He looked at her tear-stained cheeks and flushed face. Yes, she truly thought he would just forget she'd been his whole world when he'd been at his lowest point. That she'd meant that little to him, was as disposable to him as the condom packets littering the bed. She could be in his bed, his shirt and his arms and he'd just throw her, _them_, away. His mouth tightened in a grimace. He'd never understood how much damage he'd done to her after Lilly died. He had really been a _prize_ asshole to her before, hadn't he?

"Is that why you're here?" he asked quietly. "You expect me to tear you apart and suddenly feel better about the shit storm that is my life?"

"It worked for you before," she reminded him and he flinched.

No, it hadn't worked for him. Yes, he had taken his rage out on her after Lilly died but it hadn't made him feel better. All it did was deflect the pain for a few seconds before sending it zinging back on him harder than before. Back then, the pain was the only thing he could use to feel alive, otherwise all he felt was numb. He hadn't felt better until Veronica had let him cry in her arms that day at the Sunset Regent.

"No, that's not true," he admitted.

It wasn't as much an admission as it was a confession. He knew his understanding of love was warped, twisted by Aaron's beatings, Lynn's acceptance, Lilly's carelessness, Duncan's shutdown and Veronica's defection. He'd never had the gentle acceptance Duncan and Veronica shared before Lilly's death. All he had was violent emotions, the heights of Lilly and the depths of Aaron. What could he possibly know of 'normal'?

"Yes, it is." Veronica was still speaking, stubborn to her own beliefs. "I released the storm, Logan. And I can't shield myself by thinking I did the right thing, like when I stood with my father after Lilly died. I did this, Logan. Last time, you brought the pain. This time, it was my fault."

_This_ had gone far enough. Had she been torturing herself with this guilt since the night of Aaron's arrest? Or even longer, since Lilly's death because of how badly he had attacked during those first horrendous months? No wonder she had taken up with Duncan and his passive-aggressive avoidance crap. No one could carry a burden that crushing for as long as she had without cracking at some point.

He ran his hand through his hair and scowled. He didn't know who he was more disgusted with, himself or her. Himself for having treated her so badly and thinking that it was forgotten just because he wanted to forget it. Or her for not giving him any credit for learning from that miserable time in their lives.

And now, she expected him to treat her that badly again. He snorted softly. Expected? Hell, she was _offering_ to be his punching bag. How much damage had he really done to her during that terrible time?

"_None_ of this is your fault." He leaned closer to her but she started to slide further down the bed so he stopped.

"How can you say that?" she cried. "I was making everything worse. I was making _you_ worse. Don't you understand? All the bad things that happened to us were because of _me_. I was the common thread in everything that went wrong. What happened to your family, my family, what happened to you on the bridge, Felix's death, the bus crash, I was always the central figure. _Everybody suffered because of me_."

"Veronica, that's ridiculous," he snapped. "_None_ of that was your fault. Any more than it was my fault."

She stared at him, shocked. "Your fault? Of course, it's not your fault."

He stared at her for a moment then looked away with a self-mocking grin. Will wonders never cease? There actually _was_ something that Veronica Mars didn't blame him for. Unfortunately, it was because she had taken the blame on herself. Not much of an improvement, as far as he was concerned.

"Yeah, you could argue that it was my fault. That I introduced Lilly to my father and triggered this whole fucking mess in the first place," he pointed out.

"No." Veronica began to shake her head even before he finished his sentence and it warmed him. He didn't know why this tiny vote of confidence from Veronica meant so much to him.

"No," he agreed. "It's not my fault any more than it's your fault. You didn't tell Lilly to fuck Aaron, or tell Aaron to kill Lilly. Just like you didn't tell me to get wasted and hang out on the Coronado Bridge."

"But I could have handled things differently, especially once we started becoming so close. I should have taken more care because of you," she argued.

He threw his hands up in the air. Great, before she would argue because she wanted him to agree with her. _Now_ she argued to turn him against her? They had gone from his _Spice_ channel fantasies into the _Twilight Zone_.

"Yeah, you should have," he agreed. "You should have cared as much about me as I did about you. But instead, you kept accusing me. Even after you knew how much I cared about you, you still accused me of raping you after you found out about the Liquid X."

Veronica looked away quickly, but not quickly enough. He caught another glimpse of that dark emotion that was sometimes in her eyes before she turned her face away. It was that same bleakness, that same pain, that same ugly little monster that sat inside her and never allowed her to find peace.

"What is it?" he asked in a whisper, his heart rate speeding up as her pain became a palpable force surrounding them.

"Nothing," she whispered, huddling deeper into herself.

"Tell me," he ordered, his voice also dropping. He slid closer to her, moving slowly and quietly, as though not to scare her. Or scare the monster inside her.

She shook her head briefly, and curled into herself, trying to make herself as small as possible.

"No, Veronica, no more hiding, no more keeping secrets from me. You have to tell me." He spoke softly, as though soothing a frightened animal. He reached out and gently touched her shoulder. She shuddered and buried her head between her knees, but she didn't try to refuse his touch.

She was quiet for a long time, and rocked herself, body curled tightly, head bent, arms locked around her legs. Her hair fell in disarray across her shoulders and over her breasts. He reached out and gently sifted the golden strands between his fingers. His body was tense as he sat facing her and waited.

The seconds stretched into minutes but he was patient. No matter how much of an impulsive jackass he could be, he knew this time he was on the brink. Veronica's face twisted and she swallowed visibly, as if she was trying to swallow back bile. He could almost see whatever she was trying to hold back forcing its way out of her throat, desperate for release. Her mouth quivered.

"I blamed you a long time before then," she finally whispered.

"What? What did you blame me for?" he asked quietly, still stroking her hair.

She took a deep breath before blurting it out. "The rape. I blamed you for the rape long before I found out about the GHB."

He froze and his hand stopped stroking her hair. She stopped rocking and looked up at him. Her eyes were flat, devoid of any emotion and her features were blank, as she had looked when she first morphed into Warrior Veronica after Shelly's party.

"Wh…what? How?" he gasped. Horror, dismay and disbelief nearly made his voice crack. Simultaneous hot and cold flashes shook his body as he stared at her.

_Long before?_ She'd blamed him _all along_ for her rape? But she had cradled him, comforted him, and kissed him _before _she found out about the GHB. How could she have laughed with him and teased him about teddy bears and real dates if she thought of him all along as a _rapist_?

She stared at him then shook her head and buried her face again.

"No, Veronica. You don't say something like that then not explain." His voice trembled and his heart beat so fast he felt dizzy. "How could you think that of me?" His voice broke as tears gushed out of his eyes.

He didn't try to hide them or brush them away. There was no shame in letting her see how much he cared about her. No matter what she thought of him, he loved her. His tears were real; his natural and _true_ response to the pain radiating from her.

She looked up at him again, no longer Warrior Veronica, but not his Veronica, either. The girl in front of him was a stranger. She had Veronica's features but she wasn't Veronica. She was some cold, distant stranger he had never met.

"When it first happened, it made sense that it was you or something that you ordered. Do you remember how much you hated me, Logan?" she asked, in a voice so cold and flat it made him shiver. "You wanted to inflict as much pain on me as you possibly could."

Logan felt cold, a cold that started in his gut and radiated outwards until his teeth began to chatter. Never taking his gaze off of Veronica, he reached blindly until he found the blanket. He dragged it around his shoulders but the thin wool did nothing to ward off the cold.

"Rape is the worst kind of damage that can be done to a woman," she explained quietly, no inflection in her voice. "It's not just her body that's torn apart. Rape takes away a woman's ability to control her mind and her emotions, as well as her body. It turns being a woman into a terrible weakness. Because she wouldn't have been raped if she weren't a woman. She goes from being a human being with worth and value to just a thing that people want to destroy because they hate her. Rape makes a woman feel weak and worthless and defenseless, just like you wanted me to feel."

Her voice was so detached, so clinical, as though she was reciting passages from a book she had read. As though it wasn't something that she had _survived_. He knew this coping mechanism; it was one he used often himself.

"No, Veronica," he whispered. "I never hated you like _that_. I would never do anything like that to you." His voice quivered and his tears fell as horror clogged his throat.

It was just like the first time she had accused him, _to his face_, of raping her. All the other things she had accused him of, from rigging school elections to torching the community pool, even killing Lilly, had made him angry, either because he was innocent or because he was _justified_ in doing what he did.

But the rape accusations, they were like knives plunged into his damaged soul. Logan's face contorted. He knew he was a fuck up. He knew he was a master at psychological warfare, but for her to think he could abuse her like _that_…it gutted him.

"None of what I suffered would have happened if it weren't for you," Veronica pointed out. "_You_ started the war against me. If you hadn't, then when Duncan ignored me, the other 09ers would have done the same. I would have been sad and hurt and angry but I would have still been that girl with the long blond hair and the innocence. Do you remember what I was like then? How fragile and defenseless I used to be? How I would cry at every nasty thing you said or did? Do you?"

He nodded his head hesitantly. He remembered that girl, sweet and soft and unable to take the blows. _The blows_. How fucked up had he been at that time, that he had taunted and terrorized that helpless girl? Even worse, he'd led others to terrorize her, too. Was it any wonder that she thought there was no limit to what he would do to her?

"I would hurt all the time." Her voice was so quiet it was hard for him to hear what she was saying. He leaned in closer to her. Relief rushed through him when she didn't flinch or try to pull away from him. She wasn't rejecting him now. Whatever fear or anger or hatred she had felt towards him for that awful time was gone now.

"There was always a part of me that couldn't believe how bad things had gotten." Her soft voice shook, just slightly. "A part of me that thought, 'today is the worst of it, tomorrow will be better'. But it didn't get better."

Her hair had fallen into her face and she brushed it back with a shaky hand. He reached out to take her hand in his. It was ice cold.

"I would look at Duncan and see nothing." She was looking down at their joined hands but didn't try to pull free. Instead she kept talking, her voice still flat and emotionless. "I would look at the other 09ers and see contempt. And I would look at you and see pure rage. It was frightening. I couldn't believe that anyone could hate me that much."

In the days after Lilly died, he had been drowning in his pain and grief. Lilly was gone, Duncan was as good as gone, and Veronica was…a target. He had single-handedly turned her into a slut and a pariah. They had never talked about that time before. They had never talked about anything, other than when he had confessed to spiking Duncan's drink at Shelly's party.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry for hurting you like that." He rubbed her icy hand between his palms to warm it. He looked into her face but she wouldn't meet his gaze.

She went on as though she hadn't heard him. "But every day got worse and worse. Each day you found something more hateful to say or do to me. A new rumor, a new 'love note' for my locker, another flat tire, there was always something. And there was nothing I could do to change it because there was nothing I'd done to start it."

"I'm sorry," he said again, hopelessly. He kept rubbing her icy hand between his palms, but the coldness that was affecting him was controlling her too. He couldn't seem to work up enough friction to warm her.

"And then came the night of Shelly's party." Her voice was so raw it made his throat ache to hear it. "A part of me was grateful that I didn't have any memory of it. I didn't have to remember it, and relive it in my mind. But it also made it worse, because my imagination saw such terrible things."

For the first time, her icy reserve cracked, and a little of the horror shone in her eyes. It was so raw and bleak and gruesome it made him want to gag. Fresh tears gushed out of his eyes. He knew a similar kind of horror. He had lived it since he was ten years old.

And he had pushed that horror onto Veronica.

She took a deep breath and the horror receded back into wherever it hid inside Veronica's soul. When she continued, her voice was once again calm and detached. "I would think that maybe it didn't happen inside. Maybe it happened out on the patio and everyone watched. Maybe there was a crowd around laughing and cheering. Maybe I was so messed up that people couldn't tell I was being raped. Maybe I was crying and begging for help. Maybe they hated me so much that people actually _enjoyed_ watching me suffer."

"My God." He reached for her other hand. It was equally as cold but she didn't try to pull away from him. If she hated him, if he repulsed her, she wouldn't let him touch her. He held on to that hope almost as tightly as he held on to her hands.

"For a time, I would jump at every little noise. I was afraid of the dark. I had nightmares. My body felt like it didn't belong to me anymore. I lost more than my virginity that night. I lost the girl I used to be. And…" She stopped and took a deep breath. "I wasn't ready to let her go," she finished sadly.

"Baby, it's over. It's in the past," he said desperately. "We don't have to talk about it anymore."

He no longer wanted to talk about Veronica's pain. Her pain was a huge, vicious parasite that fed on her happiness and her hope. She seemed so cold, so distant but he could see how much it was costing her to talk about it. He couldn't bear to see her suffering like this.

But the dam had burst and she didn't seem to be able to stop. Now that the pain had started to gush out of her, she couldn't control it. His own breathing sped up in time with her ragged breaths. He'd wanted the truth but was he strong enough to handle it?

"After Shelly's party I had to accept that people _did_ hate me that much. Hated me to the point that they wanted me to suffer and suffer and _suffer_. And I _did_." She looked at him, showing him the raw pain she had survived.

It was so strong he had to steel himself not to look away.

"Sometimes, I thought I would die. And sometimes I…I wanted to die, for it to finally _end_," she admitted.

"Dear God." He was almost dizzy as the little color left in his face drained away. He recalled the video of his mother's body crashing into the icy water below the Coronado Bridge. He remembered his own night on that bridge. How close had Veronica come to doing the same? What if he had lost Veronica?

What if there had been no Veronica to comfort him after his mother's suicide? Or to wash the blood off of his face the night Felix was murdered? Or to hold his hand after he escaped the screaming crowds during his and Aaron's hearings?

_What if he had lost Veronica?_

She pulled her hands free from between his and used them to cover her face. She took a deep breath and drew on the core of strength he knew was deep inside her.

When she spoke again, her voice was muffled behind her hands. "There were times when I didn't think I could go through with another day. The only thing that kept me going was my father. I knew that I could never leave him. I had made the decision to stand by him and I was going to, no matter what it cost me."

And it had cost her so much. _He_ had made it cost her so much. _He_ had nearly crushed this tiny, precious girl who was now, literally, the center of his life.

She took her hands away and he could see her face again. She looked exhausted but she continued relentlessly. "After Shelly's party, I was filled with so much pain that there wasn't room for more. I lived every day being afraid. I was terrified that what happened at Shelly's wasn't the worst of what I was going to suffer."

He shook his head. "What could possible have been worse?"

He knew what he had done, how angry and twisted he had been. But what could have been worse than what Veronica had already suffered? He looked at her face, so composed and cold, and tried to prepare himself for her next revelation.

"I was afraid that there were pictures," she said flatly. "And that one day soon, they were going to be plastered on my locker or be the background for your next 09er party invitation."

For a second his mind was blank, unable to process her words. Then his reaction hit. His mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton and his vision blurred at the edges. Bile rose up in his throat because what she said was true. At that time, with him in that mindset, if there had been pictures, he would have used them against her.

He had been a fucking monster. No wonder she had never been able to trust him.

"That was the worst, waiting for the other shoe to drop." Her voice was so calm, completely detached from the girl who had suffered so much. "But it never did. I knew if that kind of ammunition existed, there was no way you could hold on to it for long. So that became my power, knowing that no matter what you did to me, the worst never happened. Then after that, every insult you threw at me and lie you told about me just made me stronger _because I had survived_."

"You did," he agreed immediately. "You survived, baby. You were so strong and I am so sorry. I am sorrier than you can understand. Please believe me, Veronica, _please_."

More tears fell but they weren't a reaction to her, they were _for_ her. For what she'd been forced to endure because _he_ didn't know of any other way to deal with pain than to expend it on another person. He'd been taught that love hurt so he'd hurt her as much as he could, even more than he'd understood. Even after that, she'd taken him into her arms and comforted him when he needed it. How could there still be so much love in her after all she'd overcome?

She stared at him for a long moment but didn't say anything. Finally, she tugged on a lock of her long blond hair. "I cut my hair myself. That's how I got rid of that girl. She was all long hair and tears and weakness. Every chunk I cut off was a piece of her. I cut all that pain out of myself. The rape, the taunts, your hate, their contempt, her weakness, her worthless tears, everything was falling off. I felt so much lighter when my hair was gone. Like I had created myself from the ball of clay that was her. I had a form I could work with and a purpose to give me strength. And I wasn't going be hurt anymore."

A shudder went through him. The force of her pain and determination felt like a physical blow. A blow that was harder and sharper and stronger than any Aaron had administered. It was worse because it was a blow that Logan himself had administered.

To himself.

To Veronica.

To their relationship.

He had never thought less of himself than he did now. Less of a man, less of a friend, less of a lover, less of a person worthy of love and respect. Not even when he had stood on the ledge, drunk off his ass, contemplating joining his mother. He hadn't understood how much he'd done to nearly break Veronica.

He looked down at his hands. They were shaking. "How can you even stand to look at me?" he forced himself to ask quietly.

She looked confused. "What do you mean?" 

"After everything I did to you, and put you through, how can you stand to be with me?" He looked up at her. "Why did you help me look for my mother? Why did you hold me when I knew she was gone? How could you stand to touch me knowing I could hurt you like that?"

"Because I knew what it was like to have your mother leave you. I was going through it, too. And now I wasn't alone anymore. I finally had someone who understood, to share some of it." To his surprise and gratitude, she put her hand on his knee, her touch tentative and light. "I'm sorry you lost your mother, Logan, but I was so grateful to have you because _I needed you, too_."

She didn't smile but she spoke earnestly. "I needed to believe that you could really care about me. After Shelly's party I was really messed up. I was so angry for having become a victim. And you and I fought so viciously. I hated myself and you hated me, too, so that felt like symmetry. Like there was balance in our relationship."

"No," he said immediately, the warm flicker of hope in his heart suddenly extinguished. "Don't say that. That's not true."

Surprisingly, she took his hand in hers. Her fingertips were still cold but her palms were warm. She pressed his hand between hers, just as he had done with her hand moments before. Her hands were so tiny and fragile they made his look huge in comparison. He brought his other hand up and covered hers. And they sat like that, hands tightly clasped, as they talked about the ugly truths they had avoided for so long.

"That night you came to my apartment. to ask me to help you find your mother. I treated you like I wanted to be treated after Shelly's party. I believed you and I was gentle with you and I helped you. And in return you were kind to me." She looked down at their clasped hands and wiggled her fingers. Immediately, he eased his grip but he did not let go. _He was never going to let go again_.

"Then you didn't hate me anymore and the balance in our relationship shifted. You stopped hating me, as I was now, and I was able to stop hating that weak, helpless girl I had been then. I _needed_ to believe in you, Logan. I needed to believe that you thought I was worth something." She paused. "And then, that day at the Camelot, you protected me. And I stopped thinking you were involved with what happened at Shelly's party. I thought I could count on you."

"But you could never forget the things I had done, or the things you thought I was capable of doing," he accepted. There was no anger in his voice. How could there be? It was the hard, unavoidable truth. "That's why you ran every time you doubted me."

"We have a bad history. It doesn't disappear just like that." She smiled wryly. "No matter how hard we try to pretend that the bad times didn't happen."

"But once I started believing in you, I never wavered from it. I never doubted you and you _never_ trusted me," he pointed out resentfully.

She paused as though gathering her courage. "I was afraid," she admitted quietly.

He sucked in his breath. "Afraid of what? Afraid of _me_?"

She hesitated for so long that he held his breath. Did he scare her? Was that why she could never _stay_ with him? Finally, she sighed and began speaking again.

"You were more and more angry every day. You and Dick and your cronies were pulling more and more stupid stunts, and getting off on it." She sounded a bit resentful, too.

He opened his mouth to defend himself but she shook her head at him.

"Don't deny it. You were, you liked the power. I'd seen it in you before," she reminded him bitterly. "It was just like you used to be with me after Lilly died. It was the same shit, but now you had a different target."

"It was not the same," he insisted. "They were attacking me. Worse, they were attacking you. There was no way I could let them get away with that. I had to protect what was mine." He paused as the truth _finally_ hit him. "_That's_ why you broke up with me, Veronica. That night I told you I was falling in love with you was the beginning of the end, wasn't it?"

She refused to meet his gaze but he didn't need her to, to confirm it. It was like the proverbial light bulb had just gone on in his head. All those months of walking around in an angry, then a jealous, haze had blinded him to the truth. Veronica had seen, _had_ _experienced_, the worst in him. She knew what he could become, if provoked.

"Every day I was getting sucked further into the turf war. Every day I was becoming angrier and more – what was your word – psychotic? You thought it was only a matter of time before I was out of control and turned back into that jackass again. Then I would start hurting you like I had before. I had already proven that I could hurt you after Lilly died. That was what you were afraid of. Wasn't it?" He shook his head.

_Damn._ It was so obvious once he looked past his hurt and neediness to see the big picture. Their entire relationship had been built on avoidance and insubstantial fluff. There had been no foundation, no trust, to hold them together. As long as outside forces battered them – his beating by the PCHers, Felix's murder, Aaron's arrest – they had been forced to cling to each other.

But as soon as something came between them, like his outrage and desire for revenge, or her desire to hide from the hell that was their lives, then they had fallen like a house of cards. Veronica was already badly scarred by her last round with him, no matter how much it had toughened her. She didn't want to do it again.

"Wasn't it?" he asked more forcefully. "You looked so happy when I told you but then, after the gunshot, you were devastated. That's when you realized that the bad stuff wasn't going to stop. And I wasn't going to back down. Worse, I already had a history of loving you then turning around and shitting on you."

He shook his head. He had been an idiot, a vengeful, blind idiot. He had done all those stupid things to protect and defend Veronica, not realizing that his actions had been pushing her further and further away. They had never built a foundation for their relationship. They never had _time _to build a foundation. Their whole relationship had been built on stolen kisses and secrets, completely separate from reality. Then, as soon as they were forced to become public, all hell had broken lose. No wonder they had fallen apart so easily.

"I couldn't survive that again," she admitted. "I'm not strong, Logan, not that way. I wasn't strong enough to take your pain, not last year and not this year. I had to deflect it. I'm not strong enough, hell, I'm not _enough_ to hold myself together, let alone you, too. There are parts of me missing," she whispered, as if admitting something horrible and unforgivable.

"There are parts of me missing, too," he reminded her. Unlike her, he could admit it. There was no shame in survival. "I don't need you to hold me together, Veronica. If I can't hold myself together then I'm no good for either of us."

She nodded sadly and huddled deeper into herself, looking small and vulnerable in the middle of the bed they had mussed.

He reached out for her and pulled her closer to him. "What I need _you_ to do is love me while_ I_ hold myself together."

She tried to pull away from him. "No, we're no good for each other."

He stretched out on the bed and pulled her to lie beside him. "Well, then we have a problem, because we're no good apart, either."

She shook her head and buried her face in his chest. "Oh, Logan. What are we going to do?"

"I don't know, baby, I don't know," he admitted. He held her to him and stroked her back. What were they going to do? He knew what he wanted. He knew what she wanted. What he didn't know was how to bring them together.

Veronica didn't want to be with him _because _she loved him so much. They had both learned the painful lesson that the people who loved them the most hurt them the most. He had proven to her before that he could be vicious and turn on her in a heartbeat if provoked. And that he could rip her to bloody shreds without remorse, or so she thought.

She didn't want to give him another chance to hurt her to that degree again. That's what had spooked her, seeing evidence of what a prick he could really be.

What she didn't realize or understand or – fuck it all – _believe_ was that there wasn't anything that could provoke him to that level again, even if she didn't stay with him and support him, _as long as she loved him_.

Shit. _Of all the times for the universe to finally give him what he wanted._ He'd wanted to make love to Veronica, he'd wanted her to talk to him, he'd wanted her to tell him the _truth_. He had gotten everything he wanted from her. And now they were even more fucked up than before.

Logan grinned ruefully. Life was kicking him in the ass again. This was his "normal".


	6. Chapter 6

**When the Cuddling Isn't the Best Part**

**Part VI**

Logan untangled the blanket from where it was wound around his legs and threw it over them. He held Veronica close and stroked her hair. He could feel her body relax and become heavy as she snuggled into the warmth of the blanket, his shirt and his arms. It seemed the exhaustion from her confession conspired with the natural fatigue of good sex and pulled her towards sleep. Her breathing was now light and even, as rhythmic as his fingers against her scalp.

"I feel like someone snuck in and stole all my bones," she murmured tiredly.

He nuzzled her temple. "I'm feeling a little weak myself but, luckily, I was able to hold on to your favorite bone." He nudged her hips with his suggestively.

She groaned at his pathetic attempt at humor. "You're being an ass, Logan."

"So now my ass is your favorite feature, huh?" He pressed his mouth to hers and spoke against her lips. "Good thing there is so much of me to love."

She snorted softly. "Well I did notice you were packing on the pounds but I didn't want to mention it." The words were meant to be sarcastic but her sleepy slur softened them.

"It's all solid muscle, babe," he responded in kind, his voice soft, no offense in his tone. "You're lucky that your boy is hot enough to take anywhere."

"My boy?" She sounded amused but distant, her voice fading away on even those two little syllables. She yawned delicately. "What does that mean?" Her voice was barely audible now.

He tucked the blanket more snuggly under her chin and she practically purred in contentment. She slid her leg across his belly and slipped her foot between his knees. He shifted so he could take more of her slight weight, letting her settle into him.

He watched her lashes flutter and fought the desire to hold his breath. Instead, he kept his breathing deep and relaxed, trying to keep _her_ relaxed. He wanted her to fall asleep beside him. And he wanted to fall asleep in her arms. He wanted to wake up with her plastered against him and his side numb from her clinging too tightly to him all night long.

In all of his years of fucking, he had never once spent the night with anyone he'd slept with. He used to try with Lilly but Celeste was there to keep them apart. Then Lilly became bored with him and no longer even tried to sneak him into her room. Lilly was impatient with cuddling and pillow talk, and would become irritated when he, as she liked to put it, 'didn't let her breathe'.

After Lilly, there had been other girls. Girls he chose because they were expendable and forgettable and didn't cramp his style. Girls whose faces and pussies were interchangeable and unremarkable, each wanting the vicarious thrill of screwing a celebrity's son and somehow making themselves and their lives better by a dusting of that fool's gold.

Then there was Veronica. Veronica was the only girl who'd lain in his bed with sex not being the forgone conclusion. Of course, he'd had broken ribs and excruciating pain and was in no shape to perform at the time. While they hadn't had sex, they'd had intimacy. And, in its own way, it had been more enjoyable and fulfilling. Not as good as sex _and_ intimacy with Veronica, but better than sex with anyone else, even Kendall.

Kendall was experienced and a technical master, but sex with her had been cold and emotionless. He hadn't felt anything for Kendall and he knew Kendall hadn't felt anything for him. They had both wanted to get laid and to screw the world. So, they did. But when they were done with the sex, there was nothing else between them. Then he wanted her gone as fast as he could get rid of her.

He smiled ruefully to himself. He had thought that, in picking Kendall as his post-Veronica fuck, he'd picked the opposite of Veronica. Kendall was tall, voluptuous, brunette, as brittle and grasping as Veronica was tender and fiercely protective. He'd felt safe thinking that there was nothing in Kendall to remind him of his past.

Now he knew he'd actually found himself a Lilly-substitute. Kendall was the kind of woman Lilly would've become if she'd been allowed to grow up and perfect her man-eating ways. Of course, with the Kane fortune behind her, Lilly would never have needed to turn to a man for money. But for power and control and thrills, she would have become another Kendall, fucking and trying to break men for the sheer pleasure of it.

Kendall had never been able to break him like Lilly had because Lilly _already_ had. Scar tissue was a lot tougher than soft, malleable skin. Kendall never stood a chance. Logan now knew how to defend himself from the Lillys/Kendalls of the world. He was old and world-weary and jaded before his time.

But even his jaded worldview skewed when confronted with Veronica Mars. Veronica hadn't gone in with the ruthless but easily deflectable frontal attack. Instead she'd wrapped her arms around him and cradled him and, soon enough, he'd dropped his defenses.

While they'd been a sweet secret, he'd been able to leave his defenses down. He'd put the jackass away and embraced the innocent warmth of bathroom make-out sessions and shared laughter. But then it had all gone to hell and he _needed_ his defenses.

He knew that Veronica had convinced herself that her secret make-out partner was his real identity and the jackass had just been for show. But Logan had been surrounded by fake family and fake friends and fake lovers his whole life. He would never have survived it if he were really as soft as Veronica wanted him to be.

But hadn't he proven to her that he wouldn't treat her like he treated the fakes that surrounded him? From the time he had broken down in her arms, he'd left himself vulnerable to her. Even so, he had to be strong to protect _them_ from all threats. Did she understand that she was inside him, next to his heart, as much a part of him as she could possibly be while still a separate human being? Or did she still fear that he would turn on her, rip her from his side and not even feel remorse?

Logan tightened his hold on Veronica, surreptitiously snuggling her closer. Her body was warm and heavy against him. He tucked his face into the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply. The sweet perfume and powder scent still clung faintly to her skin but the musky odor of sex and sweat now overpowered it. The smell of spent passion clung to everything around them, their skin, their hair, the bed sheets, and the air they breathed.

He stilled his hand in her hair and looked at her beautiful face. He could barely make out her features in the gathering darkness of dusk. But her warm breath fanned his shoulder and her heart beat reassuringly against his chest. He could feel the pull of sleep behind his own eyes. Normally Logan was all nervous energy and fidgety movements but Veronica's presence soothed him like a narcotic injected directly into his blood stream.

His eyes were fluttering shut when Veronica suddenly jerked beside him. He'd been so close to sleep that, for a moment, he was disoriented. Apparently, so was she. She turned her head from side to side, looking around rapidly as though trying to get her bearings.

"Wow, sorry about that." She laughed a bit breathlessly as she sat up and leaned over to turn on the bedside lamp.

He blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. "Sorry for what?"

She gave him a quick, false smile as she pushed her hair off her face. "I spaced out there for a second, didn't I?"

He snickered at her. "You were out for more than a second. You fell asleep."

"Oh, no. I did?" She laughed that same false laugh again as she scrambled out of his bed. "I assure you that wasn't a reflection on you. I've just had a busy couple of days. You were fantastic."

He frowned as he flipped onto his belly to watch her root around on the floor. Why was she suddenly so cold and defensive? She had been as warm and as pliable as melted taffy before she'd fallen asleep in his arms.

"Veronica, what's wrong?" he asked quietly.

She smiled vaguely in his direction but didn't stop looking around. "I mean, I don't want you to think I fell asleep because I find you boring or anything."

"I don't mind that you fell asleep," he said quietly. "I know I wore you out."

Veronica's smile wobbled and she didn't meet his gaze, but she kept her voice light. "Well, good to know I didn't damage your fragile ego."

He ignored her attempt at flippancy. "I liked that you fell asleep. I liked that you felt safe in my arms," he admitted softly.

She blinked, startled, but gamely held her pose. "So, you don't mind that I was bored?" she questioned sweetly.

He rolled back over. "You weren't bored. You were tired."

"Your ego is definitely fine." She leaned down and kissed his lips briefly.

Or at least she meant to kiss him briefly. But he caught the back of her head before she could pull away and opened his mouth to her. His other arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her down on top of him. She gasped softly as she sprawled across him. He took advantage of her parted lips to thrust his tongue into her mouth.

She scrambled around, trying to get some leverage, but only succeeded in rubbing herself against him. He groaned and released her head. He shoved the shirt aside, cupping her breast. Instantly, her nipple hardened against his palm.

She gasped again and stilled. "Logan, let me go."

He gently squeezed her breast and it swelled into his hand. "No, Veronica, we're not done." His voice was low and gentle.

She glanced down at his dick and smirked. "You may not be, but little Logan is."

He arched his eyebrow. "But it's not me we need to take care of right now, is it?"

She stilled and her smirk died away. She looked distinctly wary as he shifted his hold on her breast to bare her stiff nipple. He bent his head and nipped the tightly peaked tip. Veronica hissed sharply and instinctively ground herself against his thigh.

He looked at the passion clouding her eyes with absolute awe. A single touch, a light bite and she was already becoming wet. His heart pounded at the thought of how it was going to be when they became established lovers, once he learned how to harness all that boundless sexual energy coursing through her petite figure.

She took advantage of his slackened grip to pull out of his arms and rolled off the bed.

"I have to leave now, Logan." She pulled the edges of her shirt together, her grip white-knuckled.

He stiffened. "Leave? You're not leaving."

She stepped back. "I just need some time. That's what I do when things get crazy. That's how I deal."

He sat up on the bed, feet flat on the floor. "That's not dealing, Veronica. That's running away and you're not going to do that anymore."

"It's what I need to do." Her voice was slightly shrill and he could see the panic replace the passion in her eyes.

He shook his head slowly. "No, this is _our_ problem. We'll deal with it together."

She looked at him defiantly. "There is no problem, Logan," she denied.

"I know you're feeling vulnerable, but that's okay," he soothed. "You're safe with me."

She snorted. "Yeah, right."

His head snapped back. "You don't think I'm going to take care of you?"

"Of course, you will, Logan." Her voice dripped sarcasm. "Because you have such a long history of taking _care_ of me."

The injustice of her words tore through him and ignited his temper. "I tried to take care of you. But since I didn't stand idly by like Duncan would, it didn't mean much to you."

Her eyes narrowed and her jaw stiffened. "I'm going now," she spat out.

She was so goddamn infuriating. Why wouldn't she just let him take care of her? Why did she go out of her way to make everything so difficult? Then it hit him. Veronica hated to be out of control. In fact, she was terrified of losing control. She had too many bad experiences of what could happen when she wasn't in complete command of herself. She was trying to keep him off-balance, trying to take charge of the situation by putting him on the defensive. Veronica was scared and trying to slip back behind that now-useless mask she'd used when she first arrived. It didn't disguise her now, just as it didn't disguise her then. Veronica wasn't made to be cold and brittle.

His eyes narrowed. "Why would you want to leave now?" he demanded. "You haven't finished what you came here to do."

"And what do you think I came here to do, Logan?" she asked coldly.

He knew why she was here. And he wasn't going to let her get away with it. He set his back teeth but kept his expression calm. He smiled at her, but he was careful to keep the smile small and easy, not like a predator finally sensing the weakness in his prey.

"You came here to fuck me out of your system," he said silkily as he rose from the bed. "Didn't you, Veronica?"

It was the faint stiffening of her body and the flash of wariness in her eyes that told him he had struck home with his remark. He smiled with smug confidence.

She bit her lower lip and stepped back. Good, she was off-balance now. That made her defensive and reactionary. She couldn't hide behind her walls and defend herself at the same time. Her instinctive reaction to fight back, to protect the broken girl hiding behind the fierce warrior, was powerful. He felt the fierce exultation race through his blood stream. Fighting with Veronica brought him a rush that – until this afternoon – was unmatched by any other experience.

But Veronica didn't feel the same way. Their fighting had previously left her with bruises and pain. He had to keep her engaged and defensive but not frighten her. She had to learn that fighting with him didn't have to hurt. They could use words to heal their relationship just as much as they'd used word to tear each other apart.

"How long do you think it's going to take, Veronica?" he asked, speaking gently so the words didn't sound harsh or taunting. "A year? Five years? Ten years? Longer? What would you do then?"

For a second her expression went blank. Then fear lurked in the depths. Not fear of him but fear of _them_. Veronica finally had an inkling that fucking him out of her system wasn't going to be as quick or as easy as she'd expected it to be. Then her eyes flashed fire and Warrior Veronica reemerged.

"I don't know, Logan. I don't have your long and varied history with fucking people. I guess I'm going to have to rely on your greater experience. So, tell me, how long did it take you to get bored with Kendall?" she asked in a poisonously sweet tone.

He stiffened but forced himself to relax. Of course, she would throw Kendall in his face. It was the easiest taunt she could hurl at him. But it was also the one that didn't hurt at all.

He stepped closer to her. "Bored with Kendall? I'd say about five minutes."

Veronica frowned as she took a prudent step back. "But you were together way longer than that," she pointed out, puzzlement and suspicion in her voice.

He snorted and stalked closer. "Kendall and I were never _together_. But you asked me how long before I was bored of her. If you want to know how long before I was bored of _fucking_ Kendall then the answer is a couple of weeks."

"But—" Veronica began but he raised his voice to drown her out.

"If you want to know how long before I was bored of fucking with _you _by fucking Kendall, well, that never got old," he admitted.

Her mouth fell open and she sucked in her breath sharply. "What does that mean?"

"I knew how much it upset you to know I was with Kendall. That was most of the reason why I was with her. I wanted to hurt you. I wanted you to picture me with her and, _dammit_, I wanted it to hurt you as much as picturing you with Duncan hurt me," he admitted.

Veronica's face crumpled and she put her head down. He watched her press her fist to her forehead and felt sick. He regretted the confession as soon as it spilled out of his mouth. Not because it wasn't the truth but because he could see how much his words had hurt her now. He drew in a ragged breath.

_Dammit. She had done it to him again. _

She had pissed him off to get him to back off. It was Veronica's normal defensive pattern and he _knew_ it. But he had panicked when she threatened to leave and engaged her in battle rather than let her leave him. Her abandoning him was his greatest fear and she played on it. She knew him all too well.

Veronica was soft and gentle when she was taking care of others, but she became prickly and defensive when others tried to take care of her. He understood, they were both the children of alcoholic parents. He knew what it was like to have the unpredictable love of an emotionally absent mother, compounded by the loss of the girl they both loved.

Veronica had responded to it by becoming emotionally unavailable, preferring simple, passionless relationships she could control. He responded by going all out for love, throwing every bit of himself into the person he wanted to have.

He had given Veronica love, but he hadn't given her understanding. He wasn't going to let her piss him off anymore, no matter how frightened she was. He could and _would_ take care of her. But trust couldn't be built with sex alone. She needed words and touches to reassure her, start to rebuild what had collapsed between them. His expression softened and he smiled gently.

Alarm flared in Veronica's eyes as she realized that her ploy wasn't working and she rushed into speech. "So, I expect by the time the school year ends, we should be free of each other." Her smile was brittle and she gave him an elaborate shrug. "Worst case scenario."

"You think so?" He kept his voice soft and even and his mouth curved up in amusement. "What if it takes longer? What if it takes years?" He took another small step closer.

"It won't," she said, her voice admirably steady. But the pulse beating frantically at her throat gave her away. "If Kendall couldn't keep you entertained for more than a few weeks, given her _vast_ experience, then we'll become dull in no time at all."

He pursed his lips thoughtfully and pretended to consider her words. "I don't think so," he said gently. "Kendall and I just fucked on the surface. You and I make love on every level."

She looked annoyed. "That's the only way I know how to fuck."

"You don't know how to fuck, Veronica," he disagreed quietly. "And I'm going to make sure you _never _learn."

"What does that mean?" she demanded, suddenly rigid.

"You only know how to put your heart and emotions into making love," he pointed out gently.

There was a distinct chill in her eyes now. "While you are world's greatest expert on random fucking?"

"Not the greatest expert, but I know more than I ever wanted to." He turned his head away from her as the pain streaked through him.

His mouth curled down involuntarily before he was able to school his features back into his usual cool confidence. He looked back at her and there it was. That gentle sympathy swimming in her big blue eyes.

She could relate to him while _he_ was in pain, but not when _she_ was in pain. She could take care of him when he had broken bones but tried to push him away when she was hurting. He knew her a lot better than she thought he did. He knew it was about control. Veronica always wanted to be in control. She didn't want to open herself up, let him have power over her.

And that was going to change. It was time for Veronica Mars to learn it was okay to give up control when she was in a safe place. If he did it right, she'd even find it felt good to give up control.

He studied her in the mellow lamplight, taking in her sympathetic softness, the unconscious lowering of her defenses. So, Veronica thought she was going to comfort him, did she? That he would take from her and not give back? Had he been that selfish when they'd been together? True, he'd had broken bones and a legal nightmare, but she'd given him so much. Did she think he wouldn't care for her like that, too?

"Do you want to take care of me, Veronica?" he asked, leaning closer to her, his face half lit and half in shadow, half angelic, half demonic, all Logan. "Take all the pain away?"

She frowned and stiffened, a little bunny instinctively reacting to a threat she didn't yet understand. She took another step back. "I can't do that for you, Logan."

He looked directly into her wary blue eyes and lowered his voice to a deep rumble. "But you would if you could."

She nodded hesitantly. "Yes."

"So, it's okay for you to take care of me. For me to be vulnerable to you, but it doesn't work the other way around?" He kept his voice low and soothing, no accusation, only polite curiosity.

She raised her chin defiantly. "I don't need to be taken care of," she responded instantly. "I'm not the one whose life is always in danger."

He laughed, low and throaty. "Pot, meet kettle."

She flushed at the gentle dig. "Have you noticed that the only time my life is in danger is when I'm with you?" she pointed out tartly.

He smiled. She was increasingly more defensive, a sure sign that he was getting to her. He needed to keep her off-balance. Veronica reacted impulsively when she was defensive, giving into her base instincts. A naked and impulsive Veronica Mars only translated into a whole lot of pleasure for Logan Echolls.

Sex was still new to her, a drive that pulled her to him, even as her mind denied it. She didn't understand how much she needed to be free, to give up control and surrender to the pleasure they created together. The horror of her past year had taught her sex was a weapon that could be used against her. She thought she had to choose between being satisfied and being safe. He would show her that, together, they could have both. Coming apart in his arms had already brought down a lot of her defenses. He was going to keep pleasuring her until her desire for him overwhelmed her desire for control. Until she finally reached the point that she could no longer deny that she needed him just as much as he needed her.

"You should be thanking me," he grinned. "Danger makes for great sex."

His grin widened like the cat that was about to swallow the canary – or something equally tasty – and he pressed closer to her, watching the pulse beat frantically at her throat. "Admit it, Veronica. After we got out and your heart was racing a mile a minute and we were both sweaty and breathless, didn't you want to jump my bones and fuck me into the ground?"

She inhaled sharply and took another step back. His gaze roamed down her body like a caress. She was decently covered with his shirt but he was learning about her body. He'd begun to recognize the signs. His gaze slid back up and stopped briefly at her breasts. Her nipples were rigid against the shirt. Then he looked into her eyes.

Her gaze was softening and losing focus in that now familiar way. He kept his voice deep and even, just above a whisper. "You could have had me then and there. I would have worked you up until you were screaming for release. But I wouldn't have given it to you until you begged. Would you have begged for it, Veronica?"

She made a strangled sound in the back of her throat but said nothing. Her breathing was ragged now, her breasts heaving with her every breath.

He marveled again at how responsive she was. All he had done was drop his voice, smile and suggest, and she was excited. He leaned closer to her and inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of heated passion that surrounded her.

"And how would you have liked it, Veronica?" he breathed against her neck. "Fast and hard or slow and soft?"

She took another ragged breath and tightened her jaw, as though fighting to keep her reply from spilling out. She tried to mask her reaction but she was just too passionate, too involved, too _real_ to fake it.

"I bet you would have wanted it fast and hard then, wouldn't you?" He reached out and gently tweaked her nipple through her shirt.

She squeaked and practically jumped back.

He matched her step then boldly cupped her breast. "But now, here, safe in my bed, you want it slow and soft, don't you?" He squeezed gently, feeling her nipple stab his palm.

She stepped back again, freeing her breast from his careful hold. "Stop it," she ordered. Her cheeks were flushed with arousal and the heat radiated off her like an erotic aura.

He pressed his forehead against hers. "Stop what? Stop talking? Stop turning you on? Stop making you want me?"

"Yes. No. I mean…" she trailed off and shook her head, as though trying to clear it and took another step back.

He looked past her and judged the distance to the wall. She could take another step or two before she ran out of retreat space. He took a large step and was so close to her that his chest brushed against her shirt. Veronica gasped and took that last step back, stopping flat against the wall. She looked up at him with wide eyes as he stopped so close, his body brushed hers.

He leaned his weight into her, flattening her breasts against his chest. "Too late, sweetheart," he murmured.

"No, it's not-" she began but squeaked again when his hand skimmed under the shirt hem and up the inside of her thigh.

She tried to shift and close her thighs to him but it was too late. His knee was already between hers and his clever fingers were already sifting through the crisp curls. He let out a pleased sigh when her wet and willing body easily accepted his finger. He shifted his hand and carefully inserted a second finger. It went in as smoothly and easily as the first. He used his thumb to circle her clit, enough to keep her aroused but not enough to take her over the edge.

Veronica whimpered and her head lolled to the side, exposing her tender throbbing pulse. He licked the soft juncture of neck and shoulder then bit it gently. She moaned and her knees buckled. Logan wrapped his free arm around her waist to hold her upright. He pumped his fingers slowly and steadily inside her and kept up the light pressure against her little pleasure bud.

He bit her earlobe then whispered directly into her ear. "Do you want to come, baby?"

She could only moan in response. She was panting for air and her fingers dug into his sides as her hips twisted, trying to get the friction she needed.

"You have to help me." He brushed his lips against the shell of her ear. "Open your shirt, Veronica. Let me have your breasts."

Her heart was pounding furiously against him and her hardened nipples stabbed into his chest. She whimpered as he pulled away and she hurriedly parted her shirt with trembling hands.

He slid down her body, deliberately keeping his knees between hers, forcing her to shift her legs even wider, her knees buckling. Then he was crouched down before her, his face even with her swollen breasts. He smiled with satisfaction before latching eagerly to the pebble-hard nipple.

Veronica moaned and her entire body shook. She ran her hands convulsively up and down his back, trying to draw him closer but it wasn't possible. Logan's arm was wrapped so tightly around her waist that she couldn't move her torso. But it wasn't until his fingers stilled inside of her that she even wanted to.

"Logan," she pleaded, trying to move her hips, trying to get the friction she needed.

He released her nipple and leaned back a bit to admire his handywork. Her nipple was bright red and engorged. The sensitive tissue was so over-stimulated that he could actually see the blood throbbing in her breast. He looked up at her flushed face and his smile grew wider.

"Soon, baby, soon," he promised and flicked his thumb rapidly against her clit.

She cried out in pleasure then again in frustration when he stopped. "More," she ordered shrilly. "Logan, _more._"

"Soon, soon," he reassured and shifted to her other nipple.

This time he coordinated his attacks, matching the flicks of his thumb to the sucking of his mouth and then to her gasps for air. He didn't ease off until he felt her sheath tighten around his fingers.

Then he stopped completely.

She shrieked with rage and frustration. "Don't stop," she ordered.

"Do you want to come now, baby?" He pressed a lingering kiss into the sweaty valley between her breasts then opened his mouth to taste the salt.

A shudder tore through her body. "Yes," she nearly sobbed.

"Are you sure?" he taunted as he slowly pulled his fingers out of her.

"No," she cried and tightened her internal muscles, trying to keep him inside her.

"No? Okay then," he agreed easily, "I'll let you go."

Her channel was almost painfully tight but she was so wet that his whole hand was lubricated. His fingers slid out easily until only the first knuckle of his middle finger was still inside her.

She nearly screamed out her frustration and dug her fingers into his shoulders. "Go back," she gasped. "Dammit, _go back_."

He gently rimmed her clit with his thumb, just barely keeping his finger inside her hungry, grasping body. "Go back in, Veronica?" He looked up and smiled angelically into her flushed, desperate face.

"Yes, dammit, yes." She thrust her hips at him in blatant invitation.

He carefully stroked around her clit, his touch light, gentle and insubstantial.

"Is this what you want, Veronica?" His voice was a low growl.

She thrust her hips again. "More," she pleaded.

He flicked his thumb against her straining clit, once, twice, three times.

"Better?" he asked.

"More," she demanded again.

He eased his middle finger back into her. Her wet flesh closed greedily around his finger but he knew it wasn't enough. He deliberately wasn't giving her enough.

"You'll have to help me." He planted a neat row of kisses between her breasts. "Will you help me?"

"Yes," she whimpered.

"Put you hand between your legs and open yourself up for me," he ordered.

She sucked in her breath and froze.

Logan looked into her passion-hazy, conflicted eyes and hardened himself to the frightened vulnerability he saw in them. He now understood well why she didn't want him to go down on her. She didn't like being that much out of control of her own body. And she didn't like being the _only one_ out of control. The idea of him watching her, of being dependant on him, in the moment of ultimate helplessness terrified her.

_Because she didn't trust him._

"Do you still need more, baby?" he asked gently, lovingly, only a slight tremor in his voice giving away his strain.

She nodded and her eyes fell shut. She spread her thighs even more widely apart and tilted her hips for him. His thumb slipped along her clit and she shuddered. "Please," she whimpered.

"Give me what I want and I'll give you what you want," he bargained, his voice still tender.

"Please," she pleaded again.

"Yes, baby, I'll please you. But you have to help me." He pressed another finger against her, just inside her wet body and stopped. "Come on, Veronica, you can do it for me," he encouraged.

Her response was a ragged, desperate moan. Her whole body trembled violently.

He waited for a beat then set his jaw with determination. She was going to give in to him. She was _safe_, dammit. She was safe with him. He was going to take care of her. He _wanted_ to take care of her. He started to slide his finger out of her.

"No, stop," she cried out. "I'll do it. I'll help you."

He stopped and waited.

Veronica gasped again and her hand hesitantly slid down between their bodies. Logan held his breath as they both watched her trembling fingers slide between her legs. She took a deep breath before separating her fingers on either side of his thumb and parting herself for him.

He looked up and met her eyes, his brain and body flooded with impulses that were further from sex and deeper with love than any he had felt in a long, long time. Her eyes were wide, frightened but determined. She was doing this for him. She was trying to give him the trust he needed.

He was going to take care of that trust and of her.

He turned his head back to her body and pressed his open mouth against smooth, sweaty skin between her breasts. Her heart beat visibly in that soft, scented valley. He slid down her body, his wet tongue leaving a path of goose bumps in its wake. He gave her a momentary reprieve when he stopped at her trembling belly. He licked around then into her bellybutton with sharp stabs. Her belly contracted with each jab and she gasped with each thrust.

Veronica's desperate moans were music to his ears. But before she could settle into a rhythm, he was sliding further down, crouched between her shaking thighs. He kissed the back of her hand, his tongue tracing the sharp bones and quivering knuckles before settling against that tiny pleasure center.

He looked up at her, holding her gaze as he gently, carefully pressed his mouth against her. Her eyes widened then darkened before she clamped them tightly shut. Then he rested his forehead on her hand as it lay against her lower belly. He felt her free hand slide into his hair and curl compulsively against his scalp. She breathed in hiccupy little gasps that sounded suspiciously close to sobs.

He stabbed his tongue against her hood and pushed it back. Her little clit was engorged and ready and he stroked it carefully. He felt her flinch as he flattened his tongue over the tiny pleasure bud and lapped languidly. The little bundle of nerves was aroused enough that he could easily pull it between his teeth. He sucked on it gently and felt her cum flow between his fingers, over his hand and down his wrist.

She was sobbing openly now and trying to thrust against his head. He had to shift his free arm from her waist to her hips to hold her steady. Her legs were trembling so badly that he knew that only his arm held her upright.

"Please," she whispered brokenly. "Please, now."

He couldn't resist her plea or the near-nuclear heat of her body. She had given him what he wanted, now it was time for him to give her what she wanted. He bit down carefully on her clit and twisted his fingers sharply inside her body.

She drew her breath in on a strangled shriek as her body began to convulse and her legs gave way.

He looked up to watch the pleasure slacken her delicate features as she slid down the wall. His fingers were still pumping inside her body, helping her through the climax. His other arm was still locked around her, guiding her descent. And then she collapsed in a boneless little heap against him.

He held her for a long time, his thumb now soothing her hard, little clit, his cheek against her silky soft hair and his heartbeat easing hers back into an even rhythm.

Finally, she stirred. She pulled out of his arms and winced as his fingers slid out of her body. He reached out for her but she pushed him away. Her face was troubled and she wouldn't meet his eyes. "So, little Logan still doesn't want to play?" she asked, trying and failing miserably to be flippant.

"Don't try to make this just sex, Veronica," he said quietly. "We're past that point."

She met his gaze then and her eyes were pleading. "Please, Logan, don't push me. I've already given you too much already."

She hadn't given him too much, she had barely given him enough. But she was raw and exposed now and she needed him to take care of her. Logan readily admitted that he liked taking care of Veronica. He liked having her in his arms and in his bed. He liked _her_ needing _him_.

"Let's go back to bed," he coaxed gently. "We'll just cuddle for a while."

Her mouth turned down at the corners and her eyes darkened with remembered hurt. "Weren't you the one who said if the cuddling is the best part then something's not right?"

He flushed as he remembered that night at the Neptune Grand. "I was a little pissed off at you at that time."

"I don't know why," she snapped. "You were coming out a hotel room after having sex with Kendall."

"And you were coming out of a hotel room after having sex with Duncan," he snapped back.

"I had every right. He was my boyfriend," she reminded him unnecessarily.

"And Kendall was my fuck-buddy," he snarled.

"A fact that you rubbed in my face every chance you got." Her face was flushed with indignation.

"_You_ dumped _me_. I had every right to be pissed off at you." His voice began to rise as the suppressed pain came flooding back. "You couldn't wait until I gave you an excuse to dump me and jump into the sack with Saint Duncan."

Tears of fury rose in her eyes. "I didn't dump you because I didn't want to be with you," she cried out passionately. "I didn't leave you because I didn't lo—" She stopped abruptly and slapped her hand over her mouth.

His heart rate sped up and his breathing became ragged. _So close._ She was so close to saying it. "Go on, Veronica, just say it." He gritted his teeth. "You almost said it. It's only three little words. _Just say it._"

She shook her head tiredly. "I have to go home," she said in a little voice.

She looked so tiny, so fragile, that all the fight drained out of him. Suddenly he felt like a schoolyard bully, picking on the smallest, most vulnerable child on the lot. He felt sick as he remembered that he had been that bully and she had been that vulnerable child.

_And he was still fucking picking on her._

Last year he had bloodied her with exile and humiliation, this year he bloodied her with his escalating violence and his whoring. How could he expect her to admit to being in love with him when loving him was probably the most painful part of her life?

God, he was a _prize_ psychotic jackass. And he had just promised himself that he was going to take care of her.

"I'm sorry, baby," he said gently. "I'm so sorry."

He reached out and tentatively touched her shoulder. He sighed with relief when she didn't immediately shrug off his touch. But her body trembled under his hand. He slid his hand across her back and tried to hook his other arm behind her knees. Before he could lift her up, she slipped out of his reach.

"I was just going to take you back to bed." He kept his voice soft and gentle. "Are you hungry? What would you like? Pizza? Chinese? Mexican? Italian? We'll get anything and everything you like."

"Dinner and cuddling?" She spoke sardonically and raised her eyebrows but her arms were wrapped tightly around her body in the protective gesture he hated. "Wow, Logan, if I didn't know better, I'd think this was a date."

"This is whatever you want it to be," he promised quietly. "Come back to bed."

She shook her head and rose to her feet. "I'm just trying to protect your reputation, Logan. What if you're just as great at cuddling as you are at sex? You wouldn't want to ruin your 'great fuck' reputation by being an even better cuddle, would you?"

He rose too and moved closer to her, determined to keep her open and communicating and _with him_. He was more just a great fuck, a guy to bang and forget. He was going to be everything to her. Lover, friend, partner, confidante, every single smarmy, stupid description there was.

His voice was calm and soothing. "I'm willing to risk it." He paused as a thought struck him. "Which would you rather have, Veronica? A good fuck or a good cuddle?"

She blinked in surprise at his question. Then she tried to deflect it. She gave an exaggerated sigh. "Pop quizzes in bed. What new torture will the school board come up with next?"

"Answer the question," he ordered gently.

For a moment he thought she was going to ignore him or answer flippantly but she surprised him by looking almost frighteningly vulnerable. "A good cuddle," she finally whispered. She looked embarrassed, then apprehensive and finally defiant.

"Why?" he breathed.

Her chin rose and her jaw firmed as though daring him to ridicule her. "As you so clearly pointed out, you don't have to like a person to fuck them. But you have to have some kind of feelings for a person to hold them and be gentle with them."

Their summer together flooded into his mind. He remembered her soothing arms, her gentle words, and her soft cheek resting against his hair. He remembered how compulsively he'd held on to her and tried to absorb her warmth, tried to pull her into his soul.

He looked at her and made no attempt to hide the pain and sorrow in his eyes. "Yeah, I think I'd like that, too."

She stared at him, uncomprehending or unbelieving. Then she took an instinctive step closer to him. She stopped suddenly and her eyes widened as she realized what she was doing.

Logan held his breath and watched her. He wanted to reach out and snatch her into his arms. But he wouldn't. _He would not force her to do this._ She needed to come to him of her own volition. And she would. He _knew_ she would. Veronica loved him.

But did she love him enough to put him first for once? Was her love for him greater than her fear of them, of the natural loss of control required for true, deep connection?

Her lower lip trembled as she took a step closer to him and then another and another. Suddenly she was in front of him, so close that her breath feathered his neck. He swooped down and caught her mouth in a suctioning kiss before his brain even fully registered that she was in his arms.

She didn't seem to mind the force or the desperation in his kiss. She tilted her head and kept her mouth open and gentle, allowing him to plunder and conquer. She didn't protest when he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the rumpled bed. She didn't object when he laid her down on the mattress and covered her soft warm body with his hard, hot length.

He pushed the shirt open and strung a line of kisses down her neck and between her breasts. Her nipples where still aroused and he kissed around them very gently, knowing they were sensitive. He cradled her breasts lightly as he swept his tongue along the incredibly soft undersides.

Her nipples stiffened and Veronica moaned. She covered his hands with her own and pulled them away from her over-stimulated skin. Her breathing picked up again and perspiration glowed on her flushed face.

He shifted to her side and turned his hands over, so they were palm to palm and entwined his fingers with hers. He buried his face in her neck. "I can't stop touching you," he confessed softly.

"You don't have to," she breathed and shifted so that she was lying on her side. She slid her soft, silky thigh between his rough, masculine ones. Then she rubbed her belly against his and his exhausted cock began to stir.

"You really are going to fuck me into the ground, aren't you?" He groaned as he felt the familiar prickling sensation. At least he'd die with a smile on his face.

She gave a throaty laugh and kissed his shoulder. "Down boy," she murmured. "I need a break."

"You should have thought of that before you attacked my poor defenseless body," he responded, trying to sound indignant but feeling way too relaxed to pull it off.

"Poor baby, am I abusing you?" She licked up the side of his neck to the sensitive skin behind his ear. "Do you want me to stop?"

Her warm breath caressed along the back of his ear and Logan almost whimpered. "No," he gasped, "Never."

_Great, another Veronica-induced erogenous zone. _Goosebumps broke out on his arms and his nipples hardened. He had been too bruised and broken last summer to participate in anything aggressive with Veronica. But she hadn't been deterred and found all sorts of otherwise-innocuous places to pleasure him. _Damn, she was good at this._

"Damn, you're good at this," he blurted out.

Veronica stopped and pulled back. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously for a moment and she studied him doubtfully. He stared back at her in puzzlement. He was putty in her hands, what was there for her to doubt?

Finally, her features relaxed and she smiled at him. "You're pretty good yourself."

"I can be even better if you let me," he whispered intensely.

She seemed startled by his intensity. "I'm not sure I could handle any more of the dreamy perfection that is Logan Echolls," she teased gently.

But he was in no mood to be teased. "Sure you can." He leaned forward and began dropping kisses over her face. "We'll just have to be open and honest with each other."

"Open and honest, huh?" She cupped the back of his head and he could feel her smile against his cheek. "That shouldn't be too hard. I've had so much practice at being open and honest," she said dryly.

He couldn't help chuckling at that. Open and honest. Yeah, that couldn't be _too_ hard.


	7. Chapter 7

**When the Cuddling Isn't the Best Part**

**Part VII**

The sun had sunk low in the sky, casting a final golden glow into his bedroom, making Veronica's soft blonde hair shine like spun gold. How besotted with this girl was he that even sunshine made him sappy? But Veronica in any light would garner the same reaction, since she'd still be lying in his bed, cuddled into his side, and he'd still be satiated and happy.

They'd finally taken a step forward. Neither of them had much practice at opening up to each other but they'd started. And he'd never been more motivated to keep communicating. Many of the things she'd told him hurt but they were necessary. They would never be able to move on until they worked through their issues.

Logan pushed the shirt off her shoulder and idly kissed the bared skin. "So, in the spirit of our new 'open and honest' pact, how are we going to handle tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Veronica raised her head, a small furrow appearing between her brows. "What's tomorrow?"

"Friday," he responded with a cheeky grin.

She smiled but he didn't miss the slight stiffening of her body. She shifted away, not much, but enough that he noticed. Then she paused for a long moment.

"Well, Logan, I don't really have a day-by-day plan so I'll just handle it like any other day," she said lightly, not meeting his gaze.

The stiffening of her body, the slight cooling of her tone, the distance she tried to put between them was telling. His easy smile faded. _Damn it!_ She was doing it again. She was trying to push him away. Why didn't she ever learn?

Why didn't _he_ ever learn?

"But tomorrow isn't going to be like any other day," he pointed out. He had to remind himself to keep his voice calm. "Tomorrow everyone is going to know about us." He reached out and idly played with a lock of her golden-blond hair, twirling it between his fingers.

She went very still as she met his gaze. He could practically see her mind working, trying to decide how to deal with him.

He took that as a positive sign, a sign that he was learning to read her signals. But she still thought she had to _deal_ with him. He was her lover, not a deck of playing cards. He was not a game she picked up whenever it was convenient or she was bored. He was going to be a permanent part of her life.

But Veronica wasn't willing yet. He knew it and tried to prepare for whatever bullshit she threw at him. She was going to use her favorite defensive tactic and push him away again. She could try but _no way_ was she going to succeed. He tried to appear calm and kept his body relaxed. He raised his eyebrow as he waited for her response, still twirling her hair gently.

She looked frustrated and annoyed as she pulled her hair free and continued to hesitate. He fought back his smirk. The zingers didn't come to her quickly and easily like they used to. Now she needed to think before she could attack. He was disarming her, bit by bit, kiss by kiss, touch by touch, truth by truth.

Finally, she sighed and sat up in the bed, pulling the shirt closely around her. "We don't have to tell anyone anything. It's none of their business."

He blinked, confused. He had been expecting a defensive attack, another denial of their relationship. But she was calm, if cautious. He tried to respond in kind.

"I wasn't planning on handing out press releases," he said quietly. "But I'm not going to pretend that today didn't happen, either."

"That's not what I'm saying," she disagreed quietly. "There's already so much gossip and lies about us, why add to it?" she argued.

He glared at her. "What we have is not a lie."

"But there will be lies told about us if we don't handle this quietly," she argued.

He shook his head stubbornly. "I'm not hiding, Veronica, not us, not anything. Not anymore."

Her body stiffened and her mouth flattened into a thin line. He could see her frustration building as she rolled out of the bed. He tensed. Was this the moment she would try to bolt? Well, she couldn't. He had paid a fucking fortune for that damn security system and not even Veronica Mars could defeat it. He sat up but forced himself to stay relaxed.

She looked annoyed. "You're never going to grow up, are you, Logan?"

"Me?" he demanded, slapping his hand against his chest. "I'm not going to grow up?" He laughed harshly. "That's rich, coming from you. I'm the one that wants to be open and honest about us. You're the one still playing 'hide and seek'."

She shook her head. "Just drop it, please, Logan."

She bit her lower lip in consternation. Her voice was strained, almost pleading. Had he not been so hurt, he'd have realized she was feeling threatened, but he was too indignant to hear it.

"Drop what? The jabs, the smart-ass remarks? Yeah, I'll drop that." He threw aside the blanket and rolled to his feet. "But if you think I'm going to pretend tonight didn't happen, then you're acting like you've been dropped – on your head."

"Oh, that's cute, Logan." She shoved the shirtsleeves up her arms and stomped away from the bed. "Very funny. Very mature."

He shook his head in disgust. "Like you're acting mature?" He gestured to the bed, his movements sharp and abrupt. "Coming here, fucking my brains out, then trying to pretend it didn't happen?"

"I'm not trying to pretend it didn't happen," she argued, sounding exasperated. She pulled the shirt tightly around her middle and hugged her arms around herself. "I'm trying to keep it between us. That _is_ mature."

"Damn it, I wasn't suggesting we fuck in the quad at lunch." His voice cracked and he hated it. Even when he was prepared for her, she put him on the defensive. He took a deep breath and continued, keeping his voice low and even. "All I said is that I refuse to pretend that nothing's changed when, clearly, everything has."

She looked surprisingly desperate, as though he was somehow trapping her with his words. "What? What's changed?"

"_We_ have." His face flushed dark red and he ground his back teeth. Why was she constantly fighting him? Fighting _them_?

"How?" she demanded. "How have we changed? We're the same people, acting the same way."

He snorted and barely resisted the childish gesture of rolling his eyes. "The same way? How the hell are we supposed to be the same? We made love."

She _did_ roll her eyes. "Oh, _please_, Logan-"

"Don't," he snarled. "Don't even say it," he warned.

"You don't know what I was going to say," she protested, eyes narrowing.

"Yeah. I do." He glared at her. "You were going to say that there's no way I could think that we're special." He advanced on her, his mouth turning up in a humorless smile. "Then you were probably going to add some bitchy comment about what a man-whore I am. Maybe say I can't possible value sex if I was indiscriminate enough to screw Kendall. Does that sound about right?"

Her eyes narrowed but she turned her head away without saying anything. And that made him mad. He glared at her. Who was _she _to judge _him_? She has no right to stand on some fucking moral pulpit and preach to him. His mouth firmed into a straight line and he prepared a stinging retort.

In response, she tilted her chin and her body stiffened in her familiar defiant pose. "What does it even matter?"

When they had fought, after Lilly died, this was Veronica's first signal that she was going to fight back. But back then her eyes had been cold and expressionless. Now, when they'd finally started to open up to each other, her eyes telegraphed her every thought.

And then he finally saw it.

He saw _hopelessness_ lurking in the blue depths.

It was buried so deep in her eyes, behind the shield of annoyance that, if he weren't so totally focused on her, he would have missed it. He paused, the angry retort dying on his lips. He blinked and leaned closer, deciphering the brief flashes of emotion sparking in her eyes.

Blood flushed into his face and his mouth tightened with chagrin. How dumb was he? Even after she had explicitly explained her fears and concerns, he still wasn't getting it. She wasn't asking because she didn't understand why they were special. She was asking because she truly didn't believe it. Something inside of her wouldn't or couldn't believe that they had what it took to create a lasting relationship.

He shoved his hand into his hair and looked up at the ceiling. All those times he had treated her so badly had caught up with him. She constantly feared that he would – again – revert to the jackass he had been after Lilly died or after she had gone back to Duncan. She still believed that his tenderness for her was only self-serving.

He could see now why she had put up with so much from Duncan. For all of his faults, Duncan never made Veronica question their relationship. She had trusted Duncan implicitly. Logan had seen how relaxed and comfortable she had been around Duncan, how she had stiffened and armed herself when he, Logan, walked into a room.

Veronica had never felt safe when she was with him. At first, it was because they had been a secret while Duncan was in Cuba. Then it was because he had the murder case and his father's arrest hanging over his head. Finally, he had brought it to a head by deliberately escalating the violence with the PCHers and the people in the 02 neighborhoods. And he'd been an asshole to her after she had gone back to Duncan; making digs about Duncan's sexual performance and constantly rubbing Kendall in her face.

He brought his gaze back to her and lowered his hand to rest at his side. Well, he was going to make her feel safe now. He was willing to say and do and be anything she wanted if it meant that he was getting another chance. And this time, he was not going to fuck it up.

"It matters because we _are_ special," he said gently, but with clear determination resonating in his voice. "And I do value us, not just the sex, but you and me, together." His voice dropped, rich with dark promise. "Do you know how much I value us, Veronica?"

She was still and quiet for a moment, sensing the trap but powerless to avoid it. She hesitantly shook her head.

"So much that I'm not going to let us end," he vowed. "Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever."

She sucked in her breath, her gaze darting around, as though seeking the escape he so feared. He could see the panic building in her eyes. She was going to go into full retreat mode. Veronica did not handle vulnerable well.

He looked past her and frowned. She was between him and the door to the hallway. If she panicked too much, she would turn and run. She was barefoot and nearly naked and the downstairs was a darkened minefield of broken glass and ruined artwork.

Her clothes, her bag and her keys were thrown about the room. Not that it would matter even if she had them. She would still have to get past the security system. He wasn't concerned that she would leave but she might be hurt if she ran downstairs blindly in her growing agitation, and that was the last thing he wanted for her – more pain. He needed to calm her down.

"What we have is too rare to give up." His voice was warm and velvety, a seduction on its own.

_Gentle_. He had to keep his voice very calm and gentle, so he could soothe her. He didn't want her to be agitated or frightened. Vulnerable and aroused? Yes, definitely. Even defensive was fine.

But frightened? No. Never.

He tried to be unthreatening but he was naked and focused and he could smell her, like an animal could smell his mate. He knew her scent now, not just the fragrances she wore, but _her_. He was so attuned to her that he could find her even with his eyes shut, just by following her heat. Lust or pheromones or chemistry; it didn't matter what it was called. They had it in spades. And there was no way he was going to lose it – or her – again.

"I've screwed around a lot, we both know that." His voice was even and calm. It was a statement of fact, he wasn't bragging or apologizing. "And because of that I know how special we are. I know that what we have is unique."

She loosened her tight grip around her waist and watched him with wide, suspicious eyes. He could see that she wanted to believe him. She wanted to rebuild their relationship. She was just too afraid to trust him again.

He stopped and looked around, as though the right words would materialize in the air around him. It was so important to say the right thing, to get out the words that were originating in his heart but so difficult to translate in his brain.

"What we have is more than I've ever had with anyone else." He stopped looking around and focused directly on her wide blue eyes. "And I want this more than I've wanted anything else." He shifted to the side, forcing her to turn to keep him in her sight.

"Whatever you need from me, I'll give you," he promised her. "I'm ready to work for it, Veronica."

She blinked, still uncertain. Then her mouth firmed and her expression chilled. She stepped back, putting distance between them.

"Wow, Logan, that would be something new and different." Her voice was light and sarcastic, a faint smirk on her face. "According to you, I'm usually the one working it." She looked thoughtful. "Help me remember where you said I worked. Ah, yes, now I remember. It was under the bleachers, wasn't it? You were very complimentary about that. Said it saved both the football and the track teams unnecessary walking."

"Stop it," he said gently. "You can't make me angry or defensive anymore."

She merely raised her eyebrows, unwilling or unable to give up the ploy that had protected her so well.

"Everything's changed now." He kept his body as relaxed as his voice, as comfortable with his nudity as she was uncomfortable with hers. "Not only have I gotten into your body, I've gotten into your mind. I'm starting to understand you now."

She frowned, a mixture of irritation and distress on her face. He took a few steps closer and she stepped back again, closer to the rumpled bed. He looked past her and tried not to be annoyed by her protective gesture. He reminded himself that she was still within arm's reach. And, more importantly, she was moving further into the room, away from the potential threats downstairs. He shifted again and moved closer to the door.

He glanced down at her bare feet, the delicate high arches, the long, slim toes highlighted by pink polish. He felt the tension ease out of the back of his neck. He was between her and the door. He could protect her from making a sudden, rash flight down the stairs.

She didn't understand that. She didn't know how determined he was to make sure she didn't suffer any more pain because of him – physical or emotional. She was only trying to put distance between them, protect her already badly damaged heart. But her efforts were too little and far too late.

"This is hard on you, isn't it?" he asked gently. He reached out and tucked a lock of blond hair behind her ear. "I know what it's like to walk on thin ice all the time." His fingers lingered, lightly tracing the shell of her ear. "Never knowing if your next step will be solid or if you'll fall through a crack."

He was surprised at how effortless it was to keep his voice even and gentle. It was another positive sign. Her attacks didn't affect him anymore. She couldn't piss him off with her defensive strikes. But then, how could he be angry knowing how little it took to draw her back into his bed?

She went very still, her gaze fixed on his. He knew that his emotions were bare in his eyes for her to see, as naked as his body. But he also knew that was okay. She wasn't going to attack him when he was so open to her. She loved him and, as long as he didn't do anything moronically stupid again, her first instinct was to protect him.

"The hardest part is being alone," he confessed softly. "Knowing that there's nobody who gives a damn."

He stepped closer to her but now she did not try to move away. She looked up at him, lips parted, eyes softening with sympathy. How could he have missed this all along? Veronica's greatest weakness – and strength – was the same as it had always been. She needed to give her love without reserve and to be loved unconditionally in return.

Twice she had done that for him and both times he had thrown her love back in her face. The second time, though not as physically brutal, had hurt her more than the first. The first time, after Lilly died, she hadn't had a choice. But then she had knowingly, willingly offered him her love again and, spoiled jackass that he was, he had expected her to love him unconditionally while he had constantly tested her. He was so damn spoiled from Veronica nurturing him that he had never realized that he needed to nurture her in return.

He had burned her twice now. She wasn't going to put her whole heart into another attempt with him.

She was as easy to read as a book. Why had he never understood her before? Was it because he hadn't gotten his secret Veronica-decoder ring? Or was it because he had never bothered to look beyond his own wants and needs? They had been fine as long as they had both focused on their greatest common interest – him. But when her needs and fears began to increase and demand attention, he hadn't been able to handle it.

So, he had hung out with Dick Casablancas and the other 09ers to get the unquestioned support he wanted. They were the people who liked his dangerous reputation and his unlimited bank account, who obeyed his orders without question and they were the ones who had taken so much pleasure joining him in torturing her. The same people who still made her wary and uncomfortable every time she was forced to be with them.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. She had made so many concessions for him. She tried to tolerate his friends, even after how badly they had treated her. She'd spent less time with Wallace, her only friend after he had turned the school against her. She had mediated between him and her father, her sole source of support after Lilly's death. She had turned her back on Weevil, her only protection when he had shown off for his friends and faced her with a crowbar. And he…

Well, at least he _had_ waited until Keith Mars threw him out before he started banging Dick's stepmother.

"I'm sorry, Logan," she said softly.

He wrinkled his brow, confused. What did she have to be sorry for? _He_ was the one who had acted like a spoiled child, going on a destructive rampage after being denied his favorite toy.

"I'm sorry you've been alone for so long," she explained.

"It's okay," he murmured and reached out to stroke along her jaw line. He looked straight into her eyes. "I'm not alone anymore."

She froze for a second. Then her head tilted, first leaning into his caressing fingers, then quickly shifting away.

He could see the resistance in her eyes, her instinctive need to protect and defend herself. She still saw him as someone to distrust, even after all they had shared. Maybe it was _because _of all they had shared. And he saw her need to love and nurture fight with the caution. Her love for him was building and nearly overflowing.

Now all he had to do was break it loose.

But her caution was stronger and she stepped back, separating herself from his gentle stroking. Never let it be said that Veronica Mars didn't have a well-developed sense of self-preservation.

And never let it be said that Logan Echolls was a quitter. He _never _gave up. It was one of the few good traits Aaron had passed on to him. No matter what the obstacles, be it murderous gang members or the seething hatred of half of Neptune, Logan always kept his focus on his goal. He was willing to fight anyone and anything to have what he wanted.

Except Veronica. He wasn't going to fight with her anymore. He saw his goal clearly now. He was no longer distracted by broken bones or weekly police visits or even his own self-centered wants and needs.

He paused to think carefully about what he was going to say next. This next move, a single carefully worded strategy, could determine his whole future with her. If he handled this the wrong way, it might be the end of them, for good this time. The hair on the back of his neck pricked.

"All right," he said quietly. "We'll do it your way."

She stiffened and looked at him, confusion and suspicion clear on her face. "What do you mean?" she asked cautiously.

He shrugged, trying to appear negligent. "Come school tomorrow, we'll be just like we used to be."

Her brows knitted together and he barely resisted the urge to stoke his finger between them to smooth away the wrinkle.

"Like we used to be?" she repeated then shrugged. "So, tomorrow I should expect full-on warfare?" She gave him a brittle smile. "Thanks for letting me know. I'll be sure to stop at the auto shop on my way home. To make sure my spare tire is in good condition."

His cheeks flushed at the reminder of the many flat tires he had arranged. He really had been a bastard to her. But did she honestly think he would go back to that after everything they had been through, all they had _shared,_ together?

"Is that what you want, Veronica?" he asked quietly. "To go back to being enemies?"

"When did we ever stop, Logan?" she asked coolly.

"When you put your arms around me at the Sunset Regent," he answered quietly.

Again, that flicker of softness in her eyes and again, she ruthlessly pushed it back. "So the last few months were just a figment of my imagination?"

"No, the last few months were me in a free-fall." He ran his hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. "But I'm out of that now."

Her mouth curled up in a cold smirk. "Really?" she drawled. "Is that why half your house looks like a demolition zone and you came to the door nursing a bottle of vodka?"

Embarrassment caused blood to color his face but his temper stayed even. "I had an epiphany this afternoon."

She snickered. "Do you normally have great bursts of insight after sex, Logan?" She pretended to think about it. "No, that can't be. If it were, you'd be a certified genius by now."

It was a remark that should have gotten his blood boiling, but he only felt chagrin. She couldn't stop being defensive around him. Even after she had taken him into her body, she still refused to take him into her heart. But then again, she was trying to exorcise him from her body, wasn't she?

"We both know I'm not a genius, but I am pretty smart." He gave her a self-deprecating smile. "I know a good thing after I've been clubbed on the head with it a couple of times." He shrugged. "In my defense, I'm so used to taking knocks that it's a while before they sink in."

She gasped with horrified shock and stepped closer. Dammit, now he had reminded her of his years of abuse at Aaron's hands. Not that it mattered. He had taken knocks from everybody. Aaron's were just the most visible. But he didn't want her to pity him; he wanted her to love him.

He reached out and gently stroked her lower lip. "What do you want, Veronica?" His voice was rough and gravelly but his touch was feather light.

She looked confused – and desperate. "I…I don't know," she confessed.

"What did you want when you came here?" His fingers coasted along her face, the soft pad of her cheek, the high arch of her cheekbone and into her hair, stopping to curve around her scalp.

"To work you out of my system once and for all," she admitted.

"And have you?" He used his hold on her head to anchor her as he stepped closer.

"Not yet," she responded reluctantly. She sucked in her breath and looked up at him challengingly, almost defiantly.

Her back was straight and her features composed but they both knew her words for what they were. They were an admission of need and vulnerability. She had just handed him a weapon and left herself bare for another brutal attack. And now he was going to prove to her that he wasn't going to hurt her again.

"Do you want more?" he asked quietly.

Her mouth tightened as her gaze slid away. She bit her lower lip as she thought about her reply.

He understood her hesitancy. If she said yes, she'd be admitting to how much she wanted him. If she said no, then she'd be admitting she was afraid. Her need to stand her ground and fight was warring with her need to flee.

His own muscles tightened as he prepared for her response. _Fight for us, damn it._ He wanted to scream the words at her, but said nothing. And waited.

Finally, she tossed her hair and gave him another defiant look. "Yes," she responded, her voice clear and firm. She sounded like she was throwing down a gauntlet. She stepped closer to him, her blue eyes blazing with the fire of battle.

That fire was building up inside her, making her body burn hotter and hotter. He was perfectly attuned to her sexual heat. He knew her scent, knew that the adrenaline was really fueled by lust and not by anger. His cock jerked in reaction. Looking into her stormy eyes, the next burst of sudden insight came to him.

_This_ was his route into her heart. This is what he had the she wanted so badly. Not his money, not his infamy, not even really his penis. She wanted the alchemy between them. That potent chemical and emotional reaction that elevated sex to a level of pleasure neither of them could resist. So, he was going to feed her sexual addiction until she couldn't fight it anymore.

And like any smart dealer, he was going to let her sample until she was hopelessly addicted.

"How about I make you a deal?" he offered, his voice a low growl of need and arousal.

She blinked in confusion. "A deal?" she repeated blankly.

He fought back his grin. She looked bewildered and disappointed, even a bit frustrated. She was already starting to need her sexual fix. She had expected him to grab her and ravish her, not talk. And, definitely, he was going to ravish her, in just a minute. But first, he needed to make her feel safe.

"Yeah," he confirmed. He kept his voice soft and husky, knowing that the low pitch aroused her almost as much as his touch did. "How about I promise you that you can have me, anytime you want me, no strings attached, and no questions asked?"

Her mouth dropped open. "What did you say?" she demanded, looking stunned.

He couldn't hold back his delighted grin any longer. "You heard me," he insisted. "From now on, anytime you want me, all you have to do is say 'fuck me' and I'll drop whatever I'm doing to, well, do you."

She opened and closed her mouth several times, before finding words. "Why…why would you make an offer like that?" she finally managed.

He shrugged. "So you know I'm not playing games." He looked at her intently. "Anytime, anywhere, call and I'll be there."

She shook her head. "Ever the poet, aren't you, Logan?"

He ignored her flippancy and looked at her intently. "Do you want the deal?"

She frowned, obviously looking for the catch. "So anytime I call you, no matter what you're doing, you'll drop it for me?" she clarified.

He thought about it for a second, trying to find Veronica-sized traps. "I want to have a say in the location," he hedged. "You can't come up to me in school and expect me to go down on you in the middle of the hallway. I insist that we go into the bathroom or a mop closet."

She tried to look scandalized and prim but he could see her lips twitching. "I would never have sex in public," she insisted dryly.

"Whew. That's a relief." He ran his fingers across his forehead, brushing away imaginary sweat. "I was afraid you really did want to fuck in the quad at lunch."

She laughed and his heart lightened. This was what he wanted. She was happy and relaxing. Now he just needed to find a way to always keep her like that and coming back to his bed. He ducked his head and looked up at her.

"So, do you want the deal?" he prodded.

She frowned. "Exactly how many girls are you making this offer to, anyway?"

He merely grinned, not offended by her caution. He was expecting her to ask that question. "Only you," he assured her. "This is an exclusive, 'for Veronica Mars Only' offer. No one else has ever gotten it and no one else ever will." He paused to let his words sink in. "Interested?"

Oh yeah, she was interested. He could tell that even without his new hypersensitive Veronica-perception. But she continued to hedge.

She tilted her head and pursed her lips as she continued to consider his offer. "What do you get out of it?" she finally asked.

He snickered. "You."

Still, she hesitated. "No time limit, no boasting about your prowess and no more smart-ass comments?" she clarified.

"Agreed." He nodded solemnly but ruined the effect by adding, "You'll be the one boasting about my performance."

She rolled her eyes at him but the smile continued to twitch at the corners of her mouth.

"Deal?" he prodded again.

She hesitated longer but he wasn't worried. Sex was the one arena where he was confident he had the advantage over her. Not only did he have more experience but he also had more _control_. She was too innocent to control her responses. The thrill of eminent victory flooded his veins and – naturally – all the blood went straight south.

Finally, she gave him a brilliant smile. "I'd like a demonstration, please."

"A demonstration?" He stared at her blankly, his mouth open. Hadn't he been giving her demonstrations all afternoon? His visual aid was nearly rubbed raw from the repeated demos.

"I want to be sure of exactly what I'm agreeing to," she explained. She stepped closer, flat against him, and took his face into her hands. Her breasts pressed lightly against his chest as she pulled his head down to hers. "Fuck me, Logan," she whispered, directly into his mouth.

He pulled back to look into her clear blue eyes. Her mouth curved into a mischievous smile and the Veronica of their bathroom make-out days looked back at him. He grinned at her, not bothering to hide his smugness. His lips met hers in a gentle kiss that belied the hot rush of exultation that flooded his veins. _Yes, now he had her._

Her hands slid into his hair as their mouths met and parted in a series of baby kisses. Her lips were soft and smooth, puffy and swollen from their previous kisses. Finally, he sealed her mouth with his own. She responded instinctively, her mouth opening slightly, her tongue darting out to touch the seam where they were joined.

It was the opening he needed. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and pulled her tightly into his arms. She shuddered and her heat rose exponentially. He shuddered and his cock hardened in response. He had a brief, fleeting worry that maybe it wasn't _him _trapping _her_. But the thought was lost when her tongue curled around his. He increased the pressure of his mouth on hers, his arms around her torso, his cock rubbing against her belly.

They broke apart a moment later, both gasping for breath. Her shirt hung open and half off, one smooth, pale shoulder left bare. Her body was flushed a vibrant pink, her breasts swollen and quivering and her eyes sparkled with desire.

He reached for her again and caught the sides of her shirt. He pulled her flat against him, pushing the shirt aside, pressing against her silky soft skin. He watched her throat convulse as she swallowed. He leaned down and bit gently into her frantically beating pulse.

She was quivering again, her breath coming fast and harsh. He released the shirt for the more substantial and much more pleasant hold on her bare hips. He rubbed against her belly and her trembling increased.

She was unresisting as he pushed her back towards the bed, sucking gently on her pulse point all the while. He lifted his head when their legs bumped against the mattress. He looked deeply into her eyes. There was no fear there, only pleasure and – _yes_ – lust.

He released her hips to run his hands up her body, over her shoulders and down her arms, pushing the shirt off, leaving her naked against him. He stroked back up her arms and across her shoulders, using the light pressure to push her down onto the bed. He put his knee on the mattress, between her thighs, which forced her to spread her legs. He continued to press into her shoulders until she was flat on her back against the mattress.

Then he rubbed his lips against hers again. He wanted to sink into her mouth but she had a different idea. She nipped at his lower lip, refusing the deep soul kiss he wanted.

"Veronica," he protested.

"Let me up," she demanded.

He froze. _She didn't want him anymore._ He wouldn't have believed that it was physically possible to go from so hot to so cold instantly if he didn't just feel it in himself. How had he misjudged his hold over her so completely? Sex was supposed to be his arena, damn it.

She pushed against his shoulder and nipped at his lower lip again. "Logan, I want to be on top," she insisted, determined.

The relief that poured through him almost made him dizzy. He slumped to her side but locked his arms around her waist, keeping her against him. He buried his face in her neck and licked at the soft juncture of neck and shoulder.

"Roll over," she ordered.

"I'm not a puppy. I don't do tricks," he protested.

She slid her leg over his hip, the wet heat of her body searing into his belly. "Roll over and I'll scratch your tummy," she coaxed seductively.

He rolled over.

As promised, she lightly scratched his belly and giggled, the light, sweet giggle of their secret bathroom make-out days. He grinned in response. He had missed her giggles. Just like he had missed her kisses and smiles and her warm, melting looks. They hadn't had a lot of occasions for happy giggles during their summer together.

She straddled his hips and rose up on her knees. Then she reached between them and gently encircled his reviving dick. His breath hissed out on a moan as she rubbed his cock between her palms.

"Did little Logan miss me?" she purred.

"You're going to give me a complex with all the size jokes," he protested. He gasped again as her grip tightened. He swallowed hard and felt himself swell into her hands.

She pretended to study his cock. "I think you'll be okay, Logan," she said with a sweet smile.

He grunted. "Only okay?"

"If you need me to reassure you, then maybe you do have a little problem." Her smile deepened into a smirk as she released his dick and trailed her hands across his abdomen and up his chest. Goosebumps rose in her wake and he had to lock his jaw to stifle another moan.

He ignored her gentle baiting and rose up to her. "Kiss me," he growled. He rested his weight on his elbows as he reached her face. He nipped lightly at her lower lip and pressed his open mouth over hers.

"You're getting soft, Logan," she taunted into his mouth. But she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and opened her mouth to him.

His heart began pounding furiously. No one, _no one_ could heat him up as fast or as well as Veronica Mars. He was through with making do with less than her. It was time to start hooking his little junkie on her new drug of choice.

He let his head fall back from the pressure of her mouth and allowed her to deepen the kiss. She clearly liked having the dominant position and he was happy to keep her happy. But still, a man had to defend his reputation. He shifted against her, aligning their lower bodies, so her hot, wet center pressed again his dick. He slid his growing cock through her slippery folds and deliberately dragged it across her clit. She gasped.

"Still think I'm getting soft?" he asked smugly.

"Maybe I need to give little Logan the benefit of the doubt," she admitted. She smiled into his eyes and pushed against his chest.

Obligingly, he stretched out fully onto his back. He looked up at her in grateful awe as she loomed over him. Her hair was falling all over her face and her skin was pink and glowing. She looked adorable; disheveled, flushed and _properly_ well fucked.

"So, Veronica Mars, now that you have me at your mercy, what are you going to do with me?" He folded his hands behind his head and gave her his trademark smirk. Not that she noticed. She was too busy ogling his chest as he stretched out and defined it for her. Surreptitiously, he drew in his breath, drawing her attention to his near-perfect six pack.

Her hair partially veiled her face but he saw the tightening of her nipples, the flush of color wash across her breasts and up her neck, heard the indrawn breath. She was enthralled. She raked her nails over his nipples and sent shivers up and down his spine. Confidence flooded him and he fought back the urge to laugh in pure pleasure. She was his, _finally_, she really and truly was his.

He pulled her down to him and smiled as he brushed his lips along her cheek to her mouth. He licked her lips deliberately before fastening his mouth over hers. Their tongues met and mated and he relaxed. He kissed her passionately, deeply, sinking deeper and deeper into her, forgetting that _he_ was trying to trap _her_.

He skimmed his hands up her arms, across her shoulders and down to her breasts. He cupped them gently and squeezed and released rhythmically, enjoying the feel of her hardening nipples jabbing into his palms. She twisted her head and broke free from his mouth, trying to gasp air into her lungs while purring with pleasure.

"Logan," she whispered.

"Hmm?" He opened his mouth on her smooth shoulder and ran his tongue over the delicate bones.

"Just…Logan," she sighed.

He tilted his head and tried to take her nipple into his mouth but their alignment was off. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her up his body. They both moaned when her hot, wet center rubbed along his abdomen.

She opened her mouth but her words were lost as he latched onto her nipple. He sucked on it steadily as he palmed and massaged her other breast. She whimpered.

He released her nipple. "Too sore? Should I stop?" he asked worriedly.

"Yes. No," she moaned. She wrapped her arms around his head, holding him to her breast, her grip almost too tight.

He pulled away and studied her nipple. It was engorged and looked bruised. He kissed it gently and reluctantly pulled away from the swollen tip.

"No," she cried out and tried to pull him back.

He reached up and kissed her lips lightly. "It's okay, baby," he soothed. "I've got something else you'll like," he promised.

"It better be good," she warned and pouted.

He grinned at her disgruntled expression and kissed away her pout. "I promise."

He threw out his hand and scrambled for a condom. As he grabbed one, he surged up and recaptured her mouth. She wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders again and slid her tongue into his mouth. She kissed him possessively, in blatant ownership. One hand ruffled through his hair and she titled her head, finding that perfect fit, and sunk back into his mouth.

He could have kissed her forever but his cock, which had been patient until then, tightened painfully. He rubbed it against her thigh, trying to find relief. She tore her mouth from his.

"Ready?" she asked.

He snorted. "I've been ready since you shoved your tongue in my mouth," he grumbled.

She grinned at him. "Which time?" She giggled and reached for the condom.

He smiled up at her. He loved it when she giggled. It made her appear innocent and carefree, something neither of them had been allowed to be for a long time. The innocent expression faded when she tore the condom packet open with her teeth and slid down his body.

She quickly rolled the rubber onto his cock then guided him to the entrance of her body. He began to work himself carefully inside her. She was so swollen from their previous lovemaking that he was afraid that he was hurting her. He watched her closely for any signs of pain or discomfort. But her beautiful face showed only passion and impatience. She tilted her hips up eagerly to assist him and he grinned in relief.

"Do you want me, Veronica?" he asked. He twisted his hips slightly as he slid relentlessly deeper.

Her breath hitched. She had already taken his head and nearly a third of his length into her body. "Yes," she breathed. Her body was stiff, her muscles locked, as she strained for more.

"Good, because you have me and I'm going to make sure you never stop wanting me," he vowed. He gripped her waist to help her with the descent. She was warm, wet and open and he slid home without resistance.

She winced as he bottomed out and he froze. "Too much?" he asked anxiously.

She shook her head and shifted, leaning forward until they were breast to chest. The shift eased the depth of his penetration but gave him a tighter fit. He rocked his hips gently and she shifted again until she found a position that was both comfortable and pleasurable.

"Better?" he asked solicitously. He stroked soothingly along her spine and nuzzled her temple.

"Better," she agreed with a warm smile.

He retuned her smile, feeling his heart swell in his chest almost as much as his cock swelled inside her tight channel. She sunk back into his mouth and rubbed her entire body against his. She was glowing with lust and excitement but he didn't miss her slight stiffening as her bruised nipples rubbed through his chest hair. He brought his hands between them to cup her breasts, protecting her too-sore nipples. She sighed in pleasure and relaxed.

She planted her hands on either side of his head and rubbed his belly with hers. It took her a moment to find her rhythm and her stroke, but even her fumbling made him grit his teeth with pleasure. Finally, she found her pace and smiled down at him in triumph.

He carefully released her breasts and smiled back at her with uninhibited adoration. He was mesmerized by her, the sway of her hair, the gentle bobbing of her breasts, and the sheer allure of her naked, aroused body grinding above him. His favorite fantasy had come to life and was now wringing every bit of pleasure she could out of him.

This was working out well, no fears of crushing her and he had complete access to her beautiful, supple body. He ran his hands lightly down her back, curved over her ass and stroked the tightly stretched skin where they were joined.

Of course, she was probably going to bitch about it later. About how he had just laid back and she had done all the work. But it was about time she worked to get him. He had been fighting her or chasing after her for so long that he had forgotten what it was like to bask in the Veronica-glow. Oh yes, this was definitely working out well.

But soon, the glow wasn't enough anymore and she pouted again, her breath coming in strained gasps, her face flushed and dewy, her natural heat dialed up to nuclear, and sweat glistened on her silky soft skin. She planted her hands on his chest and rose up, trying to find the right angle and the right friction, to send them both over the edge.

He gritted his back teeth and ground his head into the mattress. His cock was throbbing and he couldn't hold out much longer. Her channel was locked tightly around him and he could feel how close she was. He reached between their bodies and sifted through her crisp hair. She whimpered as he probed the tender flesh but then he found exactly the right spot and she sobbed, her head thrown back, her nails digging into his chest.

"Oh, Logan," she cried. Her body began to shiver and her channel began to spasm. "Yes, baby, exactly there," she gasped weakly. Her arms could no longer support her and she fell across his body.

It was her contractions, combined with the breathy endearment that destroyed his self-control and he gushed inside her. She hadn't called him 'baby' since their summer together, hadn't held on to him like she'd never let him go since then. He was helpless against the memory and the pull of her pleasure.

Thiswas not going to end, he vowed to himself. They were never going to end. He was going to make sure of it. Logan Echolls _never_ gave up. It was his last conscious thought as he grunted and shook and poured everything into her; all his love, his hopes, his regret and even his fears.

And then he was drained. Everything that he had, everything that he was, now belonged to Veronica Mars. He shuddered with the last of his release and his fear. God help him if she rejected his love the way he had twice rejected hers.

The fear clutched at his heart and he, in turn, clutched at her, feeling limp, spent and destroyed.

It was several minutes before he regained enough energy to gently roll her to his side. He turned away and disposed of the condom. He moved clumsily, his body exhausted and overused, his heart swelling, his muscles as limp as overcooked noodles. He rolled back into her and they lay together in a damp shivering huddle, so closely entwined that they were breathing each other's air.

He held her possessively and lightly stroked his fingertips along her back. The sweat was drying and chilling her skin. He felt around for the blanket and pulled it over them. She sighed and relaxed into the warmth of their shared body heat. He shuddered and tried to burrow ever closer to her. All he wanted to do was curl into her arms and sleep for hours.

She apparently felt the same way, snuggling into his side. She started to slide her knee across his hips before she stopped herself. "Sorry," she murmured and slid her leg away.

He caught her knee and pulled her leg back across his hips. "It's fine," he insisted. He shifted into her to take her slight weight.

She smiled the warmest, gentlest smile she had given him since… well, he couldn't remember when he last saw that smile. He tried to pinpoint the exact day. He was sure it was a time when he still had bruises on some part of his body. He tried to focus but it was getting harder and harder to think.

The lamplight bathed them in its golden glow. He was warm and comfortable and sated. Veronica was tucked safely against his side, her light, steady breath fanning against his neck, her lush body draped possessively along his. He was safe and healthy and happy. For once, all was well in Logan Echolls' world.

His lips curved into a smile and his eyes fluttered closed.

Logan didn't know how long he'd slept. He woke to complete darkness and disorientation. It felt like he had only been asleep for a moment but it also felt like he'd been asleep forever. His body was completely relaxed and he had a smile on his face.

He had been having the best dream. He'd dreamt that Veronica had stormed his fortress in her butch boots and fucked his brains out. Not that it was unusual for him to dream about her. Hell, he did it every night. But this dream had been so real that it felt more like a memory that a dream.

He slid his hands under his pillows and stretched out his body. He pressed his palms flat against his headboard and felt the pull along his arms. He felt loose-limbed and limber, as relaxed as if he really had gone half a dozen rounds with Veronica. Which was odd. Normally, after dreaming about her, he woke up tense, with his muscles locked and a hard-on that was almost painful. Now he was so relaxed he was limp.

His stomach growled and he became aware of being ravenously hungry. He let his hands fall as he tried to remember if there was anything other than booze in his refrigerator. He had just about decided on ordering a pizza when his fingers brushed against something silky stuck between his mattress and the headboard. He froze.

No, not a dream.

He sat up slowly and reached out for the bedside lamp. The light came on with a soft snick and he stared down at the torn pink panties he held. He sucked in air on a harsh breath and his mind came awake.

_Veronica._

Now he registered the scent of heat and sweat from their marathon sex session. He could even smell the last faint traces of Veronica's perfume and powder. He ran his hand over her side of the bed. The sheets were cool to his touch and the pillows plumped up, no memory of her golden-blond head resting amongst them.

He threw aside the blanket, sending condoms and condom wrappers flying. He rose from the bed and padded to the door. The hallway light was turned on and he walked to the railing overlooking the main floor.

"Veronica?" he called out.

He listened for a moment but there was only silence. He was all too familiar with this silence. It was the silence of a house that had never really been lived in; that barely had any life in it now. It was the silence of a mausoleum whose only residents were ghosts and shadows and a single lost boy.

The fury and despair that washed through him was so strong that he began to shake. _Goddamn it_, it wasn't supposed to end like this. It wasn't supposed to end at all. This time was going to be different. She was going to trust him and work on their relationship. She was supposed to stay with him.

But it turned out he had been right the first time. Of course, Veronica had found a way to leave him.

Again.


	8. Chapter 8

**When the Cuddling Isn't the Best Part**

**Part VIII**

The silence in his mausoleum of a house was deafening, but Logan refused to accept it. _No, damn it, no. She had not left him, not again, not after tonight._ He held onto that hope, trying to believe they'd made real progress in healing their relationship. He grabbed his discarded boxers and yanked them on before he walked determinedly down the stairs. _Maybe she was downstairs. It was a huge house; maybe she didn't hear him call out to her._ Even as the thought floated through his mind, he knew he was lying to himself. Veronica was gone. That was her way. Every time he broke through to her tender core, she ran.

So much for her finally starting to trust him.

After the sweet smiles and the giggles and the deal, why did she run? He had just turned himself into her twenty-four/seven sex slave and that wasn't enough for her? What the hell else did she want? What need was it that he wasn't fucking satisfying for her that caused her to constantly run from him? And what was the weakness in him that made him constantly chase after her?

"Veronica?" he called out.

He took care to avoid the broken glass and vodka spill in the hallway. He looked through the downstairs rooms and called out her name, trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. He even wrenched open the sliding glass doors that led to the pool and turned on the underwater lights to illuminate the inky darkness. _Right. She was going to give up a warm, comfortable bed to go have a dip in fifty-degree weather._ Who would be dumb enough to do that?

Unbidden, an image rose up in his mind, of a time less than a year earlier. The memory was of a poker game during what he now realized had been better times. And of his mother, clad in a revealing bikini, taking a dip on a night just like this, to 'entertain' his fake friends and dubious enemies. The humiliation of that night, combined with the still-fresh pain of losing his mother and the rawness of Veronica's latest defection, churned together in his gut and condensed into a blinding rage.

_Fuck it all._ Fuck his mother for never being strong enough to deal with the shit she had chosen for her life. Fuck Veronica for repeatedly leaving him when she wasn't strong enough to deal with her own emotions. And fuck him for not being strong enough to be without her.

If he was going to be alone, then he was going to be _alone_. No way, _no fucking way_, was this going to break him. He was Logan Echolls and he had survived far worse crap than women who refused to honor their promises. And if Veronica Mars thought he was going to come sniveling back to her like he had every other time, then she was in for one hell of a shock.

That Logan Echolls was gone and buried, locked up in the same watery grave as his mother, the same dank prison cell with his father and the same lifeless, passionless existence Veronica seemed to prefer. _This_ Logan didn't take shit from anybody, particularly not from some little blond bitch who didn't even know a good fuck when she got it.

He marched back towards the stairs, fury and grim determination drowning out the despair that tried desperately to surface. He focused so hard on fighting back the soft emotions and keeping his anger at the forefront to keep the despair at bay. He thoughtlessly stepped into the puddle of vodka and felt physical pain pierce through the blinding mist of emotional anguish.

"God _fucking_ damn!" he swore, raising his injured foot.

The piece of glass he had stepped on was large. Blood was already oozing out of the cut and dripping down into the puddle of alcohol. He yanked the glass out and the blood flowed faster. He barely even grimaced as he put his foot down squarely in the pool of vodka and held it there until the pain in his foot was numbed.

Too bad it wasn't as easy to numb the venomous brew of rage and loss that was swirling inside him. He paid no attention to the bloody footprints he left behind as he stomped back into the kitchen and snatched up the house phone. He dialed a number that he had erased from his phone's memory but not from his own. The phone rang four times and he was about to slam it back into its receiver when the call was answered.

"Hello?" Veronica answered, sounding breathless and breezy.

Breezy? She had fucking ripped his heart out – _again_ – and she sounded breezy? Was this all a joke to her? Give the moron a thrill then laugh her ass off while he bled to death?

"You little bitch," he snarled. "You fucking coward."

"Logan?" she asked hesitantly, the light quality stripped from her voice.

"Were you expecting someone else, Veronica? You get a lot of people telling you what a bitch you are?" he questioned calmly, his mouth turning up in a humorless smile. Oh yeah, it was all coming back to him now, the ease of ripping protective layers off of Veronica Mars.

"Logan?" she repeated, sounding distressed now.

Distressed? _She_ was distressed? The bitch didn't even know what distressed was yet.

But she was going to learn.

"You left so fast we didn't have a chance to determine how many hours of charity work I performed today," he said calmly, his emotions now safely back under his icy control. "Since I had to tolerate you lying like a dead fish underneath me _and_ teach you the basics of a decent fuck, I think I should get double points for tonight."

"What?" she questioned in a tiny, airless whisper.

"Oh, don't get me wrong," he continued, leaning against the open sliding glass doors. "I don't mind doing _charity_ occasionally but I didn't expect it was going to be this much work."

The raw twisting pain he felt, knowing he was hurting her, was new. But words were his weapons, designed to inflict maximum pain. Now that he knew more about Veronica's weaknesses, he knew _exactly_ where to aim for maximum damage.

"Hey, Kendall's on her way over." He forced his voice to sound upbeat, even though his gut was twisting tighter with every ugly word he uttered. "After your pathetic performance I really needed a good lay. Why don't you come back and watch?" He straightened away from the door and delivered the killing blow. "Maybe it would help you to see a _real woman_ fuck."

He heard her draw in her breath on a harsh gasp. He expected her to hang up on him then, but instead she continued to gasp for breath and then he heard her whimper. It was the whimper that almost undid him, almost made words of apology and pleas for forgiveness spill from him lips, but he stayed strong.

"Yeah," he continued, forcing his voice to sound relaxed and easy, "I already checked with Kendall. She doesn't mind. Or at least, I think she agreed. She was laughing so hard I had trouble understanding her."

He heard her whimper again and it filled him with a mixture of aching regret and bitter satisfaction. She wasn't yet hurting as badly as he was, but she was going to. It amazed him that she still hadn't hung up the phone. Her breathing had sped up and her gasps were sounding suspiciously like sobs, and not the ones she made when she was coming apart in his arms.

Adrenaline spiked through his system and he felt no pain as he pivoted on his injured foot. At least he felt no pain from his foot. His grim satisfaction faltered as his gaze swept out to the brightly illuminated water of the pool and standing next to it he saw…

Veronica.

She stood frozen, not twenty yards away. Her arms were burdened with various takeout bags, and her shoulders were slumped under the weight of her messenger bag, which bulged uncharacteristically, and an equally bulging tote bag. She had her cell phone tucked between her head and her shoulder and her eyes were shiny with unshed tears.

He heard a low whine, almost as heart wrenching as Veronica's whimpers. Logan looked down and saw Backup, his ears flattened, crouched only a few feet away. The pit bull whined again, his chocolate brown eyes looking almost as distressed as his mistress.

Logan's gaze shifted away from Backup and slowly crossed back to Veronica, hoping and praying, for the first time ever, that she was just a mirage, a fevered image brought about by his desire to see her. If she had only left him to run some errands, and then came back to him, and he had said the things he had just said to her, hurt her the way he just had, tore out her heart as he had done…

Horror and nausea rolled through him and made his vision blur and darken. _What had he just done?_

"No." His voice – high, thin and desperate – cracked on that single, soul-shattering word.

She remained statue still, staring at him in stunned disbelief, tears finally overflowing and streaking down her white, shocked face. He was out the door and across the patio in a heartbeat, moving so quickly that he didn't even register the bite of the rough tiles under his bare feet or the sting of the cold night's air against his bare skin.

"Veronica…baby," he pleaded, reaching for her. "Baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

He touched her shoulder gently and the action broke her out of her trance. She jerked away from him and stepped back, out of his reach. He moved forward and tried to take her in his arms. They struggled briefly and he realized that she was still wearing his shirt under her jacket. The thought was pushed away as she shoved the still-hot takeout bags into his arms and pulled free.

"Backup, come here," she called sharply and turned away from him.

"Veronica, please, listen to me." He fumbled with the bags and caught the strap of her tote bag to halt her progress. "I'm _so_ sorry for what I said. I didn't mean a word of it, I swear. I thought you had left me again and it just made me crazy."

"You are such a hypocrite, Logan," she whispered, condemnation, hurt and _resignation_ filling her eyes, along with more tears. "And you went on and on about how _I _don't trust _you_."

She dipped her shoulder and allowed the strap to slip down her arm. Now, free from the burden of the tote and the takeout bags, she held her phone in a white-knuckle grip and ran, Backup close at her heels. Logan was caught up in the various bags and the tote in his arms. He wasted precious seconds dumping the whole mess before chasing after Veronica.

But she was surprisingly fast for such a little thing and, by the time he had rushed out to the courtyard, she'd already locked herself in her car. The convertible roof was up, due to the cooling night air. He tugged on the door handle and banged on the window, pleading with her to listen to him, to scream at him, promising her anything if she would just stop the car. She didn't even look at him as she wrenched the steering wheel, turning the car away from him and breaking his hold on the door handle and upsetting his balance. She was already halfway down the driveway by the time he straightened. He skidded to a halt and stared helplessly at her disappearing taillights.

_Dear God, what had he done?_

He raced back into the house, this time managing to avoid the vodka spill, and took the stairs to his bedroom two at a time. He threw on the first things he found, shorts and a t-shirt, as he stuffed his feet into sneakers and snatched up his cell phone and keys.

He went out through the main door, practiced at avoiding the hazards in the trashed front room, and hurled himself into his SUV. The X-Terra leapt forward since he had practically floored the accelerator. He fumbled to dial her phone number as he careened through the light evening traffic in Neptune. The call rang five times before going to voice mail.

"Veronica, I'm sorry. I'm on my way to your apartment. I'll be there as fast as I can. We'll talk this out, I promise. I'm sorry, baby. I love you so much. I'm almost there." He spoke rapidly, his words almost tripping over each other in his haste to get them out.

He made the twelve-minute trip to Veronica's apartment in eight, jumping stop signs and ignoring the speed limit. He screeched to a halt in front of her building and slammed the SUV into park. He glanced around the parking lot as he ran to her door. He pounded on her door with a sinking heart. Her car wasn't in the lot and he didn't hear Backup barking or coming to the door.

Logan looked over the parking lot again, as though expecting the Le Baron to magically appear. It didn't. He yanked out his cell phone as he went back to the X-Terra. His fingers fumbled as he dialed her cell phone. What the hell had possessed him to remove her as his first preset? The image that rose in his mind made his stomach cramp. It was of him lying on his back in his bed, with Kendall straddling his hips and reading Veronica's name on his caller ID.

Kendall. _She was laughing so hard I had trouble understanding her._ Veronica thought that he had told Kendall about her. Worse, she thought that Kendall and he were laughing at her sexual performance.

He had attacked Veronica where she was most vulnerable. She had no confidence in her sexual ability. Duncan's cold dismissal, Shelly's party, the lies about her slutty reputation and the ostracism Logan had led had flash-frozen Veronica's sexuality at that point of pain and fear.

Logan broke out in a cold sweat. He couldn't even fathom the amount of raw courage and stubbornness that it had taken her to come back to school after Shelly's party. Day after day of being reminded of that night, where she had no memories, but lived in constant fear of reminders. How had she survived it, being unable to tell the truth from the jumble of lies, isolated and alone, with no one to trust, no one to tell her things were going to get better?

The closest he had gotten to _that_ kind of hell was during the summer, but even that had not been the same. He had been insulated by the 09ers and his reputation as their enforcer. And, most importantly, he had Veronica by his side. _She'd_ been there for him to trust, she'd been there to hold his hand and tell him that things were going to get better.

She had tried to overcome her painful past, first by finding peace with Duncan. Then, in another act of raw courage, she had come to him and been vulnerable in his bed. And in one cold, brutal attack, he had annihilated her carefully recovered sense of sexual identity. She _had_ trusted him, as much as her scarred heart would allow, and he had ripped her apart – again.

Logan bit back a moan as he slid back into the X-Terra. He dialed her cell phone number carefully and waited for the call to connect. It rang three times before going to voicemail. Three rings – she had pressed the 'ignore' command on her phone.

"Baby, where are you?" he asked, making no effort to disguise the trembling in his voice. "I'm in front of your apartment and you're not here. I am so sorry. I know I fucked up. You have every right to be mad at me but please don't give up on me. I love you, Veronica. You know I do. Call me, _please_."

He took a deep breath and reprogrammed her number into the first preset on his phone. Now, where could she be if she wasn't here? He tried to put himself in her place, if she was alone and hurting and had Backup with her, where would she go? He pulled out of the parking lot and headed for Dog Beach.

Three hours later, he was nearly hyperventilating with worry. He had gone everywhere he thought she might be. He had driven carefully down the length of Dog Beach, looking for the Le Baron in the lot or Veronica and Backup by the water. He had looked up Wallace Fennel's address and driven past her best friend's house. He had gone to the high school, Mars Investigations, Java the Hut and even the Camelot Motel.

And he had left her messages. Long, increasingly desperate messages pleading with her to call him back, to at least let him know she was safe. After the call at her apartment, the rest of his calls had gone directly to voice mail. He suspected that she had turned off her cell phone but that didn't stop him from calling. He even stopped at the pay phones still available at Neptune General, hoping she would answer her phone if she didn't recognize the number. She didn't answer but he continued to call, letting her hear his misery and fear.

He knew how Veronica's mind worked. He knew he had hurt her badly with the barbs about Kendall. He had called her repeatedly to assure her that he wasn't with Kendall or anyone else, and that he wasn't going to be with anyone else. He had to believe that these actions could overcome the pain of his ugly words.

So he kept calling, repeating his message over and over like a mantra. A mantra she would have to listen to repeatedly in order to delete all the messages on her cell phone. That is, if she was safe, if she did have a chance to listen to her voice mail.

The beach had been deserted; the school empty, Mars Investigations locked up tight. The Hut had been closing and no one there had seen Veronica since her shift yesterday. The night attendant at the Camelot had been adamant when he'd insisted he hadn't seen any pretty little blonds in a long, long time, even when Logan had flashed a wad of cash. Logan hadn't found Veronica _anywhere_.

_She was safe, she was fine._ He kept repeating the thought in his mind. Of course, she was safe. She had her taser and a fiercely protective pit bull. That was the only thought that kept him together, knowing that Backup was with her. He would take care of her. Backup would guard Veronica with his life, allow her to cuddle up to him and sob out Logan's betrayal into his fur. Logan suspected the pit bull had comforted her many times before.

It made him sick that she was probably crying right now, again because of him. But where was she? She wasn't home, she wasn't at Wallace's, she wasn't at school or work. Logan tried to think of any places Veronica would visit. The thought that came to him stopped him cold. The only other place he knew of Veronica visiting regularly was the Neptune Grand, specifically _Duncan _in the penthouse suite.

Logan turned and drove towards the hotel, his speed sedate and his actions carefully controlled. It was a stark contrast to his earlier reckless driving and frantic activity. The same scene played over and over in his mind as he drove. Veronica coming out of Duncan's suite, him coming out of the suite he'd shared with Kendall; Veronica's gentle post-coital glow, his cold satisfaction at empty sex; Veronica's wounded silence at his bitter shot. _If the cuddling is the best part, he didn't do it right_.

Veronica had said earlier that she and Duncan had finished their relationship and found closure. Logan was willing to bet his trust fund that Veronica had been the one to end it. Logan didn't know why Duncan and Veronica had broken up the first time, but he knew that Duncan enjoyed the safe, familiar relationship he had with Veronica now.

Logan neared the Neptune Grand and his heart rate sped up so fast he felt dizzy. If Veronica was with Duncan, what was he going to do? Pound on the door until Duncan opened it then bodily lift Veronica out of his bed?

Logan's stomach clenched painfully at the thought. Would she do that? Would she go to Duncan while still smelling and tasting of him, while even still wearing his shirt? And what would he do if she had gone back to Duncan? Was he supposed to shrug it off and make sarcastic comments like he'd done at the beginning of the school year?

Hell no, not this time. If Veronica had gone to Duncan, he would fight to get her back. Logan didn't want her to sleep with Duncan, but if she had, he would be understanding and loving. He wouldn't hold this night against her. She needed comfort and support, now that she thought he'd brutally rejected her, even laughed at her performance. He'd never thank Duncan for being the one to do it, but he'd never reproach Veronica for it, either.

He drove carefully around the lot at the Grand but didn't see the Le Baron. But that didn't mean anything. She could have used valet services. Of course, she would have to sneak Backup in since the Grand didn't allow dogs, especially big hulking security dogs. Backup. Logan's heart rate eased at the thought of the pit bull. Backup would be with Veronica. She would never leave the put bull alone in the car at night.

But then Duncan was staying in the penthouse suite and he was Duncan Kane. The Kane money could persuade hotel management to turn a blind eye to the pit bull. Or maybe Veronica had already been with Duncan while Logan had looked for her all over town. Maybe she was already home, tucked safely into her bed. He reached for his cell phone again as he headed back towards Veronica's apartment.

It was nearly five in the morning before Logan finally gave up in defeat and pulled out of Veronica's lot. He had gone back to Veronica's apartment after searching the Neptune Grand's parking lot. He had checked out her lot and carefully driven along the streets around her building. Then he had spent an hour waiting on her front steps, seriously debating breaking down her door. He had even gone back to his own house, in the hopes that Veronica had gone back there to fight with him.

He would have welcomed it if she had. He would have let her scream at him until she was hoarse. Then he would have kissed her and tucked her into his bed and watched over her the entire night. But she wasn't at his place either. Unable to sleep, he'd driven around the streets of Neptune and continued to call her. Her voicemail was now full from the messages he had left for her all night long.

He had gone back to her place first thing in the morning, since he hadn't bothered to try to sleep. But, not surprisingly, she had eluded him. So now he was home. He was going to take a shower and get dressed and wait for her in the school parking lot. She wanted to avoid him but not enough to risk her GPA or her attendance record.

He'd talk to her at school and he'd be calm and understanding. He wouldn't yell at her for anything, not even if she had spent the night with Duncan. If she had, he had pushed her into it. But, if Duncan thought he had gotten Veronica back, he was in for a _rude_ awakening.

The shower helped revive Logan. His eyes were still gritty and his head felt fuzzy but at least he was clean. He reached for a towel and remembered too late that there were no clean towels. He shook himself off and stalked into the bedroom. He grabbed the nearest shirt and used it to blot the moisture as he headed for his dresser.

He needed to call a maid service and get this place cleaned up. Veronica didn't appreciate being in a pigsty and the damn place was a safety hazard. Belatedly, he remembered the cut on his foot and stopped to hold up his foot. He squinted down at it in the miserly light thrown off by the single bedside lamp. The cut looked clean and had already begun to scab over. He put his foot down and promptly tangled it in – he looked down – _Veronica's bra._

He bent down to pick up the delicate pink confection and recalled her soft, unbound breasts under his shirt as they struggled by the pool. The pool. Veronica had abandoned their dinner and a tote bag by the pool. He had a pretty good idea now of what was in that bag.

He set his jaw and swallowed hard to hold back the nausea as he walked downstairs. She had to think he was the worst kind of scum, the kind of guy who said anything a girl wanted to hear until she fucked him, then turned on her the second she did. He wasn't that guy. He was just unbelievably stupid.

The darkness was much lighter now as he crossed the patio. Dawn would break soon. He could see clearly due to the illumination from the underwater lights in the pool and he picked up the tote bag, ignoring the mound of food. He went back to his room, rifling through the tote along the way.

He upended Veronica's bag onto his bed. Grimly he stared at the assortment of feminine clothing and toiletries and – incongruously – a dog's chew toy and a large can of dog food. She had packed haphazardly, things shoved in every which way, probably anxious to get back to him. He picked up a small pink and green tie-dyed t-shirt and held it to his nose. It smelled like Veronica, sweet, feminine and clean. He dropped it back onto his bed almost immediately and turned away.

She had planned to spend the night snuggled in his arms and he had fucked it up. He had been so close to having her. If he had awoken fifteen minutes later, she would already have been back and he would have coaxed her into having dinner in bed. If he had woken ten minutes later, she would have come in about when he had stepped on the glass and, knowing Veronica, would have insisted on bandaging his foot and babied him all night long. If he had awakened _even five minutes later_ than he had, she would have answered him when he called out to her and asked him to help her carry in her bags.

He would have had her all night. His blood throbbed heavily at that thought. They would have slept deeply, comfortable and sated, curled up in each other. He might have been waking up now, carefully untangling himself from her, shaking his arm to speed up the blood flow into the side of his body numbed by the tiny blond sleeping against him. He would have woken her with kisses and cuddles and a cup of hot coffee. She would have smiled at him and taken him into her arms. Then he would have spent their entire morning, through their shower and over breakfast, trying to convince her to ditch school and spend the day with him in bed.

Logan jerked himself out of the fantasy. He hadn't allowed her to spend the night so there was no coffee in bed or kisses or breakfast. Hell, there wasn't even food in the house, unless he included the Chinese takeout spoiling by the pool.

But he hadn't lost her yet. He would get her back. This was just a setback. Logan Echolls was used to setbacks and he was an expert at overcoming them. He just needed a few minutes with Veronica. Once she saw him, saw how heartsick he felt, heard the truth in his words, she would forgive him. She had forgiven him for worse shit that this. She _had_ to forgive him. He refused to even think about what he'd do if she didn't.

It was still murky outside and he hadn't bothered to turn on any lights to supplement the bedside lamp. He kicked aside discarded clothes as he picked his way across the room. He reached over and flipped the wall switch beside his dresser, bathing the room in bright light.

The movement disturbed the air around him and a piece of paper danced on the breeze before settling back against the mirror over his dresser. Logan stared blankly at the paper before reaching for it with a trembling hand. He recognized Veronica's handwriting instantly and jerked around to look at the bed, as if she might have wandered in while he was in the shower and snuggled in for a quick nap. Of course, she wasn't there.

He turned back to the note and pulled at it gently, peeling off the tape that held the note to the mirror. Veronica's neat, flowing handwriting covered the sheet of torn notepaper.

_I need to take care of a few things. I'll bring dinner and Backup. I hope you're in the mood for Chinese._

And then, in a hasty, smaller scrawl.

_I don't know your security code so I went into the security room and used the system override to turn it off. Good thing you left the security room door open or I would have been forced to wake you from your nap, Sleeping Beauty!_

He stared, unblinking, at the note until the words blurred before his eyes and tears slid unnoticed down his cheeks. Veronica had intended to come back. She had left him a note and let him sleep while she went out and took care of her business. She had probably smiled a lot, a little blond tornado of energy. She had left, feeling secure and happy, sure that he would welcome her back with a bright smile, open arms and smothering kisses.

Instead she had come back to hear the ugliest, cruelest thing Logan could think to hurt her with. He went after her weakness and his words had found their mark. She'd trusted him, made love with him and, in the process, had given him a new weapon to use against her. Fucked up idiot he was, he'd used it, slashed another wound upon her already scarred heart. He had seen it out by the pool, the devastation in her tear-soaked eyes. He had fucked up _badly_. Was there any chance that she would ever forgive him?

Logan pulled his SUV into the parking space and turned off the engine with a quick, impatient twist of his wrist. He looked around the school parking lot anxiously as he yanked the key out of the ignition. Where was she?

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the first preset. He was disappointed but not surprised when his call went directly to voice mail. Her mailbox was full so he couldn't leave a message. He shut his phone with a trembling hand and stared at his reflection in the rearview mirror.

His eyes were swollen and bloodshot, rimmed with dark circles. His skin looked pasty and his lips were devoid of color, making the circles appear even darker. He fumbled through his glove box and pulled out a pair of Oakleys and shoved them on his nose. It was the best he could do to disguise his sleepless, anxiety-ridden night.

"Everything is going to be okay," he muttered to himself. He took deep breaths to keep himself calm.

That's what Veronica used to say to him in the limo after his court appearances. It had been a lot easier to believe it when her delicate hand held his and her warm body was tucked against him. It was a lot harder knowing that sweet comfort might be denied to him forever – because he kept fucking it up.

He was almost hyperventilating again when a familiar black Le Baron pulled into the far end of the parking lot. Relief rushed through him and he was dizzy with it. He knew she was going to be angry and would probably try to ignore him. He wasn't going to let her get away with that, even if it meant he'd have to pick her up and carry her bodily into a mop closet.

He scrambled inelegantly out of his car and went to her. He was less than halfway across the lot when a tall, thin kid in a Neptune High letterman's jacket stepped up to her. She was just getting out of her car, looking tired and wan, as though she had not slept either, and seemed startled by the kid who had stopped her.

Veronica tried to walk around the tall boy, but he moved into her path. She stepped the other way and he again blocked her. The boy leaned aggressively into her and she took a step back. Logan sped up as he saw her cross her arms in that familiar defensive gesture. He was within hearing distance when he saw Veronica shift her gaze from the kid and fix it squarely on him. Her glare was so cold and remote, it stopped Logan, rooting him to the spot.

"Come on, Mars, I'm offering you five hundred bucks," the boy was saying. "That's probably more money than you trick in a typical weekend."

Veronica turned back to look at the boy, her features set, eyes cold. She had morphed back into Warrior Veronica. "You do know I have a fully charged taser, don't you?" Veronica responded shorty. "Go away. I don't need your money."

"You sure?" the boy responded dubiously. "It looks like you could sure use it."

Logan could see them both in profile and watched the boy pointedly look down at Veronica's cheap jacket and skirt, and then back up to her loose, casual ponytail. Logan's hands curled into fists and his eyes narrowed warningly on the jackass bothering Veronica.

"Listen, Jimmy, was it?" Veronica responded coolly. "A little advice. The next time you want my help, don't insult me. Then you might stand some chance."

Immediately the boy's attitude changed. He stepped back and raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. Veronica actively ignored Logan, keeping her gaze fixed on Jimmy. Jimmy the jackass didn't seem to notice the threat of Logan looming just beyond his shoulder.

"It's Timmy," the boy corrected, his tone now quiet and non-threatening. "I'm Tim Carter, remember? And I'm sorry. I'm just so worried about my girlfriend that I can't even think straight. You have to help me, Veronica." The aggression eased out of Timmy and now the taller boy looked worried and sincere.

But Veronica apparently wasn't falling for it. Her arms remained crossed and her expression tight. "You cheated on your girlfriend then rubbed the girl you cheated with in her face. You have to accept she dumped your ass for a good reason."

Timmy's eyes narrowed but his voice remained even. "It was a mistake. I know it was. I apologized to her, like, a hundred times. But she says she doesn't trust me anymore."

"And you think me following her around, to try to catch _her_ cheating on _you,_ is going to make her trust you more?" Veronica asked skeptically. "That's just going to prove to her that you're the lying, cheating jerk she thinks you are."

Timmy's expression turned ugly, color flushing into his face. "You know all about lying and cheating, don't you, Mars?"

Veronica stiffened but her expression remained cool. "Do I?" she questioned blandly.

"Everybody knows that Kane and Echolls are passing you around." Timmy sneered. "So, how do they decide who gets you? Do they flip a coin or do they flip you and one gets head while the other gets tail?"

Veronica hissed in her breath and took a step back. Logan set his jaw and reached for the little punk. Veronica shifted her ice-cold glare from Timmy back to him. Logan stopped at the force of that bleak, unforgiving gaze but Timmy was too self-involved or just too dumb to shut up.

Or he had a death wish.

"Yeah, I've heard Echolls talk about you," Timmy taunted. "He said you could teach Jenna Jameson a trick or two."

Veronica flinched but her expression remained cold and composed. Logan's heart twisted and remorse choked him. The ugly rumors he had spread nearly two years earlier were coming back to bite him in the ass. At the time, he had wanted to hurt Veronica as much as he could. He had been so effective that the words were still hurting her now.

Timmy had also seen Veronica flinch and stupidly continued his taunting. "I heard about this one 09er party where they had you stretched out on a lounge chair and there was a fucking conga line to bang–"

That was a far as the punk got. Veronica's ice-cold glare could only hold him back for so long. Logan grabbed Timmy by the scruff of the neck and slammed him into the nearest car.

"What the…" Timmy began, twisting around to try to see his attacker.

Logan held Timmy against the car as he watched Veronica walk around them both, her face still frozen in disgust. Logan briefly debated the merits of beating Timmy into a bloody pulp. It would be satisfying but then he'd probably be stuck in detention for a week and he couldn't afford to be apart from Veronica for any length of time. He settled for slamming the punk's head against the car hood.

Logan yanked Timmy's head back by his lanky brown hair and hissed into his ear, "If I ever hear even one word of that shit repeated by anyone, _anyone_, I'm going to string you up on the flagpole by your dick. You got that?"

He released Timmy and the taller boy whipped around to face his attacker. Timmy's anger and fight melted into wary caution when he saw Logan. Timmy held up his hands and stepped back.

"It's okay, man." Timmy said quietly.

Logan took a step closer and Timmy took another step back.

"Stay away from Veronica," Logan ordered, his voice equally low.

"It's cool," Timmy agreed. "I didn't know you two were back together. I thought it was still Kane's turn."

Logan didn't even think. One second Timmy was smirking at him, saying bullshit about Veronica, then next second he was flat on the ground, blood oozing out of his cut upper lip. Logan stomped his foot down squarely on the younger boy's chest and Timmy's breath rushed out on a painful gasp.

Turn? Did people really believe that shit about Veronica? Or was this kid just shooting his mouth off? Logan hadn't allowed a word of that crap to be spoken once Veronica had started dating him. And Duncan didn't tolerate it, either. Between them, they had shut up the 09er crowd but apparently there were still some kids stupid enough to pull out those ugly stories. Logan was going to put a stop to it, no matter what it took.

_Everybody knows that Kane and Echolls are passing you around._

Logan didn't know what pissed him off more, the fact that he himself had started the rumors that allowed people to believe that about Veronica or that people were still repeating the stories even now. Or maybe it was the fact that he might have blown his last chance with Veronica last night.

"Don't ever go near her again," Logan advised softly, grinding his heel into Timmy's chest. "Understand?"

Timmy coughed, unable to speak and nodded his head. Logan removed his foot and waited but the younger boy wisely remained on the ground. Logan looked around casually but the parking lot was still mostly empty. It was early and only a couple of students were at school at this hour, looking sleepy-eyed and tired. They were focused on putting one foot in front of the other and not on the small skirmish that had just occurred over a diminutive but highly visible little blond.

Good. Veronica was angry enough with him without adding his accidentally taking their tentative new relationship public before she was ready. And they did have a relationship. Even though she was hurt and angry over what he said the night before, she would get over it once she had a chance to calm down and think it through. She knew from his messages that he had been alone and worrying about her all night long. And she had never given him much reason to trust her, either.

He walked into the school and directly to Veronica's locker. He wasn't surprised when she wasn't there. If Veronica didn't want to be found then it would be damn hard to find her. She was so tiny that, for all he knew, she could have folded herself into her own locker. Or maybe she was…

Abruptly he turned and headed down the hall. He glanced around to make sure the hallway was clear before he pushed against the girl's bathroom door. As he expected, the door didn't budge. He smiled grimly, put his shoulder to the wood and shoved with all his might. The door slid open about six inches then stopped. He pulled the door towards him, kicked out the doorstop, then pushed again. The door opened without resistance.

He slipped into Veronica's private haven and shoved the doorstop back into place. He rounded the wall that separated the door from the room and saw her sitting on the countertop. She was staring at the entrance, open-mouthed with shock.

"How did you get in here?" she demanded as she hopped down from the counter.

"Through the door." Logan shifted, standing between her and the door, just in case she wanted to pull one of her infamous 'Veronica Mars runs away' acts.

She still looked shocked. "I blocked the door."

"Yes, you did," he agreed. "But I would have broken it down if I had to, I'm that fucking desperate. Where were you last night?"

"That's none of your business," she snapped, wrapping her arms around herself in the protective gesture he hated so much.

"'None of my business'?" he repeated. "I spent all night looking for you. I drove all over town. I called you every five minutes."

"Really?" She gave him a cold smirk. "Did that piss off Kendall? Or are you two so used to lying and cheating that you don't even care if one fuck buddy calls another while you're going at it?"

"I wasn't with Kendall," he insisted. "I was looking for you. I went everywhere I thought you might be. I kept calling you all night long. I was nearly out of my mind worrying about you." His voice cracked on the last confession.

She didn't look impressed. "Spare me," she advised. "I don't believe that for a second."

He whipped off his sunglasses, letting her see his swollen, blood-shot eyes. "Look at me," he demanded. "Do I look like a guy who had an easy night?"

Veronica shrugged. "That Kendall. She really put you through the ringer, didn't she? Did you remember to thank her for cleaning up after me? Should I send her flowers or is a 'thank you' note enough?" she spat.

"Veronica, stop it," he pleaded. "I wasn't with Kendall. I wasn't with anyone. I'll never cheat on you, I swear it. I know you'd never forgive that." The horrible thought came back to him. "But I'd forgive you," he promised in a little voice.

Veronica looked as if he had slapped her, face flushing, lipped parted. "What?" she demanded. "I'm not a cheater. Duncan and I broke up before I came to see you."

Logan drew in a harsh breath. "I know, baby. But if you needed to be with somebody, after last night, after what I said," he explained brokenly. "I'll forgive you. It was my fault. I made you leave and I'm so sorry."

She looked furious. "I'm not you, Logan," she snarled. "I don't fuck anybody and everybody."

He was on emotional overload now. The force of Veronica's hurt, the memory of the resignation in her eyes when he had said those horrible things to her, the thought of her with Duncan combined with his sleepless, fearful night. He shuddered as all his emotional barriers crumbled.

"Don't leave me, Veronica," he pleaded. "Give me another chance. I won't fuck up this time, I promise."

She stared at him blankly. He knew she expected him to be angry and go on the offensive. That's how he normally reacted when he was wounded. She was prepared for that. But he wasn't capable of strategizing where she was concerned anymore. He went with his heart, a heart that had been kicked around too many times to be anything but defensive.

"Please," he whispered.

She stared at him for a beat longer then bent down and scooped up her messenger bag, which was once again slim and sleek, no longer bulging out, as it had been last night. Apparently, she had taken the time to empty out her overnight kit before she came to school this morning.

She saw him staring at her bag and pulled it closer to her side. "I want my tote bag back," she announced harshly.

"Sure," he agreed eagerly, willing to say and do _anything_ to please her. "I brought it with me, it's in my car. We can get it anytime you want."

For a second, she looked disappointed but she hid it immediately behind her icy glare. "Why didn't you just bring it in with you?" she demanded.

"I would have, if I had known you wanted it," he assured her gently.

"I would have thought _you_ wanted to," she contradicted grimly. "Or are you waiting for a larger audience before you give me back my clothes? It'll make a nice accompaniment for your next round of bullshit, won't it, Logan?"

"No, I won't do that," he denied quietly, his voice breaking again. "We agreed to do this your way."

"What are you talking about?" she demanded, yanking her bag up on to her shoulder.

He shifted so she couldn't go around him. "Our deal," he reminded her desperately. "We agreed that we would keep things quiet and discreet." He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, trying to ignore the crackle of paper as he slid out the device. "Anytime, anyplace, I'm at your service."

He grinned weakly, hoping she would at least smile at the pun. But Veronica wasn't in the mood to humor him.

Her mouth dropped open. "Is this another one of your sick jokes? Do you actually think I would ever call you again after last night?" she demanded.

"After last night, I'd think you'd be more determined than ever to call me," he disagreed hopefully.

She just stared at him in speechless shock.

"After all," he continued earnestly, trying to ignore the way his heart beat too fast and his throat spasmed, threatening to choke off his words, "we have a deal. You call and I come running." He tried to gauge her reaction, but the sheen of desperation blurred his vision. "Maybe we should get you a leather corset and a whip," he joked weakly.

It had been the wrong thing to say. Her features congealed into disgust. "You have me mixed up with Kendall. I don't do those things. You might say I do, but I don't." She stepped closer to him and looked him straight in the eyes. "Odd that you would mix us up when we're _so_ different. Why don't you just get out of my way and then you can go back to your _real woman_?" Her voice was harsh and taunting, the mask firmly in place.

He knew how hurt she really was. He couldn't forget the condemnation in her eyes from the night before. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, they both knew how deep the wound was. Her sexuality was the weapon used to repeatedly hurt her after the horror of Shelly's party. Just when she thought the worst was over, he'd himself had attacked it again.

"There's no one but you," he denied quietly, not even trying to hide how his voice trembled. "You know that. I just spent all yesterday afternoon showing you that."

"You showed me alright," she agreed bitterly. "You showed me that I was an easy lay, but not a very good one." She flashed him a brief, cold smile. "I guess my reputation is shot to hell, isn't it?"

They had you stretched out on a lounge chair and there was a fucking conga line…

What had it been like for her to hear that? To be hurt and humiliated by lies like that? Why the hell hadn't he reacted faster and stopped the little punk before he said that to her? What kind of a man was he that he had started that shit about her in the first place? Veronica had forgiven him for so much, could she do it again? Logan shuddered with the force of his fear.

"I'm sorry," he nearly sobbed. "I'm sorry for the shitty way I behaved. I'm sorry for the things I said and I did, last night and over the summer. And I'm _so_ sorry for leaving you alone last night."

"You've left me alone plenty of times, Logan," she reminded him. "There was always something better than me. A pool to burn down, an 09er party to attend, Kendall to fuck…"

"No!" he broke in desperately. "There was never anything better. I was screwed up and angry before but I'm better now."

"Yes, you're better now," she laughed scornfully, but with a desperate edge. "You're better at lying now."

"I'm sorry. I woke up and you weren't there and I called out for you," he babbled, his voice breaking again. "I looked around the house and out at the pool and I thought about my mother and about—"

"Your mother? I remind you of your _mother_?" Veronica squeaked out in horror. "First, I'm the worst lay of your life, now I'm your mother?"

"No, that's _not_ what I meant," he insisted forcefully. He scrubbed his face with his hands as he tried to pull his jumbled thoughts together. "First of all, you are not a lay. I _love_ you. Secondly, being with you is the most important —"

"Don't start," she ordered on a snarl. "I am not going to fall for any of your lies again."

"It's not lies, damn it. It's the truth," he insisted, his voice rising. "I've only told three people in this world that I loved them. Two of them are dead but guess what? All three of them left me."

He broke off as he realized how loud his voice was getting. He wasn't actually yelling but he was damn close. Veronica was staring at him with wide, shocked eyes. He promised himself that he would be calm and reasonable and that he wouldn't yell at her. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

"I told Lilly I loved her and she left me for Weevil and Aaron and God knows who else," he reminded her quietly. "I told my mother I loved her and she left me _to_ Aaron and jumped off a bridge." His voice cracked again. "I told you I loved you and you broke up with me. You left me, too."

"Not last night," she denied sharply.

"No, not last night," he agreed. "But every other time. I'm just so used to people leaving me. I'm sorry for what I said last night. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean a single word of it. I was just upset when I woke up and you were gone."

"Why?" she demanded. "Am I supposed to stick to your side twenty-four/seven? I have responsibilities. Not all of us can just turn our backs on everyone and everything whenever they feel like it."

"I know you have responsibilities," he agreed. "And I know I'm not at the top of that list."

He took another deep breath and forced back the bitterness. After last night she had every right to kick him completely off that list. His resentment wouldn't help him or their relationship. The only way out of this mess was to focus on _her_ and her needs. If he took care of Veronica, made her feel safe again, she would naturally give him the comfort and support he needed. Veronica loved him, even if she didn't _like_ him at that moment.

He paused and spoke in a calm, reasonable voice. "You're the most important person in the world to me. I woke up, you weren't there and I panicked."

"My note wasn't enough to ease your panic?" she questioned coldly.

His face flushed with shame. He shoved his cell phone back into his packet and the paper crinkled accusingly. "I woke up alone and I was scared. You were gone and I couldn't think straight. It didn't occur to me to look for a note," he admitted.

"Logan, you're not two years old anymore. People come back when they leave," she responded coolly.

"Not in my life, they don't," he shot back.

She blinked at him in startled shock. Then she put her head down for a moment, thinking. He held his breath. At least she hadn't tried to storm out. She had listened to his apologies, but did she believe him?

Finally, she shook her head decisively. "I can't do this," she announced and tried to step around him.

He stepped into her path, blocking her from leaving. "You can't do what?" he demanded.

She stopped and glared at him. "_This_. I can't do this with you. I'm not like…" she trailed off and shook her head.

He reached for her. "You don't have to be like anyone, Veronica. I don't compare you to anyone. Not to Kendall, not to Lilly, not to anyone," he insisted.

She pushed him away. "Well, that's good," she mocked. "Since I'm apparently so inferior to them. I don't know how you managed to get it up for me."

"Veronica, you don't believe that for a second," he insisted. "You're hurt by what I said but you know that's not true."

"How do I know that?" she demanded. "I only have you and Duncan for reference. According to Duncan, I never did anything wrong. According to you, I didn't do anything right. Which one of you am I supposed to believe?"

Logan could only stare at her for a moment. Duncan had reassured her that she had never done anything wrong? If that was true, then why was she so hesitant? He thought back on the previous afternoon and her flashes of anxiety and uncertainty.

"Duncan said you were great in bed?" Logan clarified carefully.

"Duncan said I was perfect. He treated me like a porcelain doll when we were together," she informed him defiantly.

Logan thought about what he knew of Veronica, of what he had learned in just an afternoon in her arms. "But you didn't want to be a doll, did you?" he asked quietly. "You want to be a flesh and blood woman. You don't want to be cradled and protected. You want to live and feel and experience life, don't you?"

She looked bored. "I really don't need the psychoanalysis, Dr. Freud," she snapped sarcastically. "Get out of my way." She tried to step around him again.

"No." Once again, he shifted into her path. "Don't you understand? You're not that Veronica anymore. You can't be the girl with the perfect hair and the perfect manners, no matter how hard you tried to act like her again. You're my Veronica now. You're a _real _woman who gets angry and gets even. I'm the right guy for you. I'm the one who wants to be with the person you are now."

"Right," she agreed sarcastically, "You don't want to be with me. You'd rather think the worst of me than trust me for a second."

"Well, you have a history of running out on me," he pointed out, trying not to sound defensive.

"And you have a history of lying your ass off," she shot back.

His back straightened. "When have I lied to you?"

"Let's start with your alibi for the day of Lilly's murder then go on to the charming reputation you gave me," she suggested.

"I've apologized to you over and over for that, Veronica," he pointed out. "I can't change the shit I did but I can be better."

"Like you were last night?" she queried icily. "Tell me Logan, did you teach Kendall any of my tricks? I'm sure she wants to learn to fuck like a porn star. That is, if she isn't a pro already."

His gut twisted. "Don't do this, Veronica," he pleaded. "Don't make up problems. We have enough to deal with without you getting angry over things that aren't even real."

"Your attitude isn't real? My reputation isn't real?" she demanded.

"Your 'reputation'," he made a finger quote gesture, "is crap. You know it, I know it and even that punk in the parking lot knows it. No one says that shit about you anymore." He gestured towards the door with a sweep of his hand. "Jimmy just forgot that for a minute but he remembers now."

"He remembers because you banged his head into that car," she corrected him. "And his name is Timmy."

"I don't give a shit what his name is and I don't care how secret you want to keep our relationship," Logan argued, his voice breaking. "I'm not going to let anybody get away with hurting you."

"He was only repeating what you said first. You started it," she accused. But the rigidness in her body had begun to ease.

"So, I'm ending it," he responded swiftly, immediately picking up on the decreasing hostility in her tone. He took a hesitant step closer to her. "Baby, listen to me. I know you're mad about what I said last night and you have every right to be. But is this anger getting you what you want?"

She frowned at him but said nothing.

Emboldened, he continued. "You want to be with me. I want to be with you. We're both used to being treated badly in relationships."

She flushed angrily and opened her mouth to respond. He put his hand up to stop her.

"I know, I know. You didn't treat me badly, I treated you badly," he agreed. "_This_ time. But before now, you were always the one who did the running. I was always the one who took you back time after time, after you accused me of raping you, after you had me thrown in jail and even after you let your father throw me out of your apartment. I did it without making an issue of it because I wanted to be with you. Do you want to be with me?"

"I thought I did," she responded, sullenly. "But not anymore."

"Stop it, Veronica," he pleaded. "I'm tired of playing games. We've both been in relationships that fucked us up. We've both made clean breaks from those relationships. I fucked Kendall and got being a jackass out of my system. You fucked Duncan and got being the Stepford girlfriend out of your system."

"I was _not_ a Stepford girlfriend," she protested indignantly.

He thought back on the clingy, kissy girl that had hung on Duncan's arm, but allowed that to slide. They could argue the semantics later, preferably after a night of hot make-up sex. Now he just had to get their relationship back on track so they _could_ have make-up sex.

"I wasn't with anyone else once you left." He allowed his voice to drop as he stepped closer to her. "I have no desire to be with anyone but you. I only want you."

She shivered in response to his deepening tone but crossed her arms protectively around herself. "You said that having sex with me was performing charity," she reminded harshly, but couldn't hide the pain.

His heart stuttered at the hurt in her voice. He stepped closer and gently stroked her face. She pulled away sharply. She looked defiant but so tiny and fragile, so easily broken in his hands. He wanted to snatch her into his arms and hold her so tightly that no one and nothing would ever hurt her again. He held back the desire – for now.

"You know that's bullshit, just like you know I've dreamed of making love with you every night. Having you in my arms is the best thing that has ever happened to me," he reassured her softly. He gently fingered a lock of her long blond hair. "We just know what to say to hurt each other, don't we?"

She was still for a bit, thinking, then nodded reluctantly. Her soft, freshly washed hair tickling against his fingers. "Yes," she admitted.

"You don't have to hide from me, Veronica," he encouraged. "I know what you need."

She stiffened and pulled away from him. "You don't know anything, Logan. You don't know me."

"That's not true, Veronica," he began, reaching for her again.

Her cell phone rang and she reached into her bag. He grabbed the messenger bag off her shoulder and held it out of her reach.

"Give it back," she demanded. "That's Wallace calling."

She reached for her bag again but he held on stubbornly. "Ignore him," Logan insisted. "We have to talk."

"I'm here early because I promised to meet Wallace, not because I want to talk to you," she explained angrily. "He can't leave a message because some jackass filled up my voicemail."

Logan relented and lowered her bag. She snatched at it but he refused to let go. She glared at him and reached in to dig out her cell phone, holding firmly to the strap of her bag.

"Hi, Wallace," she answered her phone breathlessly.

Logan pulled on the bag and tugged Veronica closer along with it. She gave him a scathing look but he kept a firm grip on the bag.

"Veronica, where are you?" Logan, with Veronica pulled against him, could hear Wallace's annoyed voice clearly through the phone. "You asked me to meet you here then you don't show up."

"No, I'm here," she assured him hurriedly. "I'm just in the bathroom. I'll be right out."

"Jeez, girl, you only left home ten minutes ago," Wallace complained. "How can your makeup be smeared already?"

"I don't know, Fennel," she shot back. "Maybe I'm using the wrong foundation. What do you use?"

"Hey," Wallace cried out in outrage and Logan chuckled.

"Is there somebody else in there with you?" Wallace demanded.

Veronica frowned at Logan but her voice remained light. "It's the girl's bathroom, Wallace," she pointed out. "Of course, there are other _people_ in here with me."

"And you're telling them you get makeup tips from me?" Wallace's voice raised an octave and Logan couldn't help chuckling again.

"And they can hear me?" Wallace continued. "That's it, I am not helping you out with this case anymore."

"No, Wallace, don't do that." Veronica glared at Logan and yanked on her bag again.

Logan was concentrating on her conversation and she pulled the bag free easily. But she overestimated the force necessary and stumbled back. Logan lunged for her and caught her. She let out a muffled 'oomph' as he smothered her against his chest.

"Veronica, are you okay?" Wallace sounded anxious now. "What was that noise?"

"I'm just putting my stuff away and the phone is muffled against my ear," Veronica explained smoothly, pushing ineffectually against Logan's chest. "I'll be out in one minute."

"Are you sure?" Wallace demanded. "You sound like you did that time were locked in the trunk of your car. You know there's a release lever in there, don't you?"

Logan froze. _Locked in the trunk of your car._ Someone had locked Veronica in the trunk of her car? He hissed in his breath, fury darkening his eyes.

Veronica looked up at Logan and slapped her hand across his mouth, her eyes narrowed warningly. He yanked his head free but said nothing, his lips tightening into a thin line.

"No, Wallace, I'm fine," she reassured hurriedly. "I'll be right there."

"Okay," Wallace grumbled. "I'm counting," he warned as Veronica quickly shut off her phone.

She stuffed the phone into her book bag and pushed against Logan's arms. "I have to go. Wallace is waiting for me."

"You were locked in the trunk of your car?" Logan repeated dangerously, releasing her reluctantly. "Was it for a case? When was this?"

"A long time ago, back when you still hated me," she explained, then paused. "Well, the first time you hated me." She turned and hurried to the door.

He caught up with her as she reached down for the doorstop. He leaned against the door to prevent her from leaving. "I never hated you. We've been through that, Veronica."

"Not now, Logan," she insisted. "It was a long time ago, old news. I have to go meet Wallace now."

Logan eased away from the door grudgingly. "I'll keep my cell phone on, even during classes," he promised.

She looked at him blankly. "Why?" she asked as she pulled out the doorstop and put it in her bag.

"Our deal?" he reminded her. "Anytime, anyplace."

She snorted. "Don't hold your breath," she advised.

"A deal is a deal, Veronica," he pointed out stubbornly.

She just shook her head, opened the door, and hurried down the hall.

Logan watched her until she rounded the corner. _So close_. He had been so close to getting her back. He had felt her soften but the fear held her back. She was afraid of what was between them, of how he could hurt her and how vulnerable she was with him.

It was going to be difficult to rebuild their relationship if she was going to dig in her pretty little heels all the way. He understood that she was unwilling to put herself out there for him, given what he had put her through. He wasn't any better at being in a healthy relationship than she was. She had taken a chance and he had slapped her down. She wasn't going to try again.

So that meant that he would have to do it. He would have to put his pride aside and be understanding and supportive and give her all the space she wanted. It was a depressing thought. He didn't want to give her space, he wanted her in his arms. But he refused to be defeated by any obstacle, including Veronica herself. They were going to work this out, damn it. There was no other option for them. He just needed a plan.

Problem was, he couldn't think of one.

So, if he couldn't fix their relationship right now then he would work on his other pressing problems. Like Jimmy or Timmy or whatever the hell his name was, repeating shit that should have been long forgotten. And people locking Veronica in the trunk of her car. That had to have been terrifying for her, especially given the horror she endured at Shelly's party. Nobody was going to hurt Veronica again – nobody. She was his girl. It was his responsibility to take care of her.

He wasn't going to fail her – or them – again.


	9. Chapter 9

Logan frowned as he crossed the quad for lunch. His day had gone from bad to steadily worse. First, the confrontation with Veronica in the girls' bathroom hadn't gotten him anywhere. Then, she'd ignored his repeated attempts to talk to her during the day. She was still completely pissed at him. He tightened his jaw as he remembered Veronica's cold, unforgiving eyes when he'd approached her. She had brushed past him as though he wasn't even there.

It was worse now than when they had first broken up. At least then, she had looked at him with soft eyes and regretful sadness. Today, her eyes had been blank and unseeing. As far as she was concerned, he didn't even exist anymore. Not that he expected anything more, but he couldn't stop trying. Sooner or later, she was going to have to forgive him and he was going to be there.

He looked over at Veronica's usual table. She was sitting alone, focused and alert, as though she hadn't had a restless, sleepless night. Maybe she hadn't. Maybe she had spent the night with Duncan, the ex-boyfriend who told her she was perfect in bed, and had slept safe and secure in his arms. Logan's heart twisted at the thought.

No, she hadn't had a restful night. She hadn't slept any better than he had. He recalled how tired and hollow-eyed she'd looked earlier when that punk hassled her. Logan suddenly remembered the kid in the letterman jacket who had bothered Veronica. He stopped and looked around the quad, his eyes narrow and hard.

There he was. He was sitting at the basketball team's table and talking earnestly with Veronica's partner in crime solving, Wallace Fennel. Wallace's expression was serious and he nodded occasionally as he listened. Timmy's expression was open and earnest, and he was nervously crumpling a brown paper lunch bag in his hands.

Logan scowled as he crossed the quad and sat down at the 09er table. That jackoff better not be trying to get to Veronica through her best friend. If that little fucker thought he was going to get away with saying or doing anything to hurt her again, Logan was going to straighten him out – fast. He looked from the ballers' table back to Veronica. She was bent over her notebook, deep in concentration, her salad and water ignored at her elbow.

He sighed and looked down. Her ability to stubbornly ignore what she didn't want to see was amazing. When she had clung to Duncan and pretended everything was normal despite the fact that hell was exploding all around him, Logan had been furious. Of course, when she had clung to _him _and pretended that he wasn't fueling the war with the PCHers, he had been cocky and confident.

Now that she was actively ignoring his existence again, he was just fucking depressed. Damn it, what was wrong with him that he couldn't ever curb his impulses? And why couldn't she forgive a few careless words said in the heat of anger? It wasn't like she didn't have her own abandonment issues. She should understand. All he wanted was for her to love him and make him a priority in her life, like she did her father, her best friend, her dog and every loser who asked for her help. He _deserved _to be important in her life.

Damn. Was he really as needy and pathetic as that made him sound?

"Dude, what's with you? Who pissed you off?" Dick Casablancas demanded. "And what's with the cell phone? You expecting a booty call or something?"

Logan's head jerked up and his eyes narrowed. Had he said something, done something, so obvious that even _Dick_ knew what going on? Dread slid an icy finger down his spine. If Veronica thought that he had told anyone about them after he had expressly promised to keep it quiet, then he could kiss his chances of ever getting her back goodbye. No way. No _fucking _way. He was done with kissing her goodbye.

Logan studied Dick with careful, cold eyes. But Dick was his normal clueless self, his smile open and oblivious. Logan glanced down at the cell phone on the table in front of him. He had placed it strategically so that it was clearly visible to Veronica, hopefully reminding her of his eagerness to respond to any overture from her, no matter how half-hearted or disinterested.

Yeah, he really was as needy and pathetic as that made him sound. He ground his back teeth together and shoved his fingers through his hair. He, Logan Echolls, one of the most envied and desired guys in Neptune, was willing to settle for crumbs.

Problem was, Veronica wasn't offering him crumbs anymore. She hadn't even glanced his way.

Logan glared at his cell phone, then shifted his irritated gaze to the untouched take-out carton beside it. Which one of his moronic friends had decided to order _Chinese_ today? His stomach cramped in protest. Just the sight of that little white carton made him of think of the food rotting by his pool. He didn't ever want to see Chinese takeout again.

He thought again of the missed opportunity of Chinese dinner in his bed with Veronica. He perked up at the fantasy. If Veronica were sharing with him, they would have had dinner in bed. Hell, if he had his way, they'd still be in bed. They wouldn't be pretending to ignore each other over unwanted little white cartons. His momentarily rising spirits deflated instantly.

Fuck.

Somebody needed to take that carton away before he threw it across the quad in frustration. He scowled again at the offending little box, then looked up. Wallace was now sitting with Veronica, facing her with a cajoling expression. He was talking earnestly but she appeared resistant. Her jaw was set in a stubborn line and she was shaking her head.

Wallace leaned closer and spoke some more. After a moment, Veronica softened. Her jaw relaxed and she shifted into him. She seemed to be making some point of her own because he nodded eagerly, hands up in a conciliatory gesture.

Logan peered at them suspiciously. He looked over to the basketball players' table. Sure enough, the jackoff was watching Veronica and Wallace with a hopeful expression. The longer Veronica and Wallace talked, the surer Timmy's smile became, until it was outright smug.

Logan drew in his breath with a sharp hiss. He had been right. The little punk was getting to his girl through Wallace. What the hell was wrong with the stupid prick? After Logan had ordered him to stay away, he should have been avoiding every tiny blond in the whole damn school, just in case. Did he think Logan was kidding when he had promised to string him up on the flagpole?

Maybe he thought he was safe surrounded by the other players. Logan stood up. That jackass wasn't safe anywhere. Logan would still find a way to get to him, even if he was surrounded by a minefield _and_ the fucking PCHers. Timmy glanced over to the 09ers table just then and saw Logan. The younger boy's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He hopped up from his table and hurried into the school building.

Logan's hands curled into fists as he watched the slime ball slither away. At least he wasn't a complete moron. He had enough brains to turn and run with his tail between his legs. But he had looked so damn smug when he was smiling at Veronica. Like he had her in the palm of his hand. Like he knew she was going to do exactly what he wanted her to do. He looked like…

Logan sat down abruptly. The little punk probably looked like he had yesterday. Yesterday, Logan was the one who thought he had Veronica in the palm of his hand. Had he had that same condescendingly smug smile on his face? Like he knew something that she didn't and felt superior because of it? Was he as much of a jerk as that little brat, Timmy?

_That was a stupid question. He was here without Veronica, wasn't he?_ Logan set his jaw and stared down at the table. He blinked. The irritating white carton was gone. He looked over at Dick, who shrugged, his mouth full of whatever had been Logan's lunch.

"What?" Dick demanded defensively after a hasty swallow. "You weren't eating it."

Logan didn't bother to reply. He looked over to his cell phone, still prominently placed, still silent and accusing. He looked up at Veronica and his heart hitched. Wallace had left and she held her own cell phone to her ear. Her mouth firmed into an angry line as she listened then brought the phone down to stab a series of keys.

She did it repeatedly; listened for a few seconds then punched keys. He realized that she was erasing his voice mail messages. After a moment, she got into rhythm; listen, delete, next. But he noticed that she listened a little longer with each message and that the rigidness of her jaw eased a little more with each set of keystrokes. He kept his head down, staring at his own cell phone but watching her out of the corner of his eye. He had long ago perfected his not-watching-Veronica stare.

After a while, her fingers moved slower, no longer jabbing at the keys, now thoughtful and deliberate as she continued to delete his heartfelt pleas and declarations. Her mouth had completely softened and she began to bite into her plump, still slightly kiss-swollen lower lip.

His muscles tensed as he watched her. The desire to coax her into some place private was a physical ache in his chest, and elsewhere. God, he wanted to suck that tender lower lip into his mouth and kiss her until she forgot to be angry with him. He would wrap her thighs around his waist and rub against her until she sobbed out in release. Then he would kiss her continuously to muffle her sobs as she came in his arms.

His cock jerked and he was startled out of his fantasy. He looked around but no one else at the 09er table was paying attention to him. Dick was regaling them with the details of his party that night. Logan glanced back at Veronica and sighed. He would do absolutely anything she asked if it meant he got access to that mouth again. He craved her kisses and her smiles and her giggles. The thought of never having them again was scaring the shit out of him.

And even scarier was the guy who walked up to her. Duncan hovered beside Veronica's table, watching her with an anxious expression. Logan sucked in his breath on a harsh gasp. During Journalism earlier, Duncan had kept looking at her with sad puppy-dog eyes and tried to have whispered conversations with her. Veronica had resisted his efforts with the same steadfast determination she'd used to ignore Logan's presence.

Veronica looked up now, startled, but then she smiled hesitantly. Even from this distance, Logan could see Duncan's relief as he sat down beside her. Logan locked his muscles to the point of pain. Damn it, she was softening after listening to _his_ voice mail messages and _Duncan_ was going to reap the benefit?

Logan abandoned his stealthy secretly-watch-Veronica tactic and turned to stare at her fully. Duncan leaned forward eagerly but she smiled gently and shook her head. Duncan continued to talk to her but she only responded with the same apologetic smile.

_Shit._ Duncan was getting the soft-eyes-and-regretful-sadness routine Logan had gotten when Veronica had broken up with him. She _had _dumped Duncan. And she had apparently come to Logan's house as soon as she had given Duncan his walking papers. Had she left Duncan _for_ Logan? Logan suddenly felt so light-headed he was almost dizzy from it.

He was jerked out of his transfixed stare by the warning bell. He looked around and blinked to get back his focus. Everyone around him was standing and gathering up their belongings, except Duncan. Duncan was still sitting at Veronica's table, looking like a kicked puppy while she hurriedly hooked her messenger bag onto her shoulder. She gave him a last regretful smile before she rushed away.

Logan relaxed as he watched her enter into the building before the crowd. He rose to follow her. She had softened listening to his messages and she had very clearly blown off Duncan. Maybe she would be willing to hear him out now?

"Damn, that girl really knows how to plow 'em," Dick remarked loudly.

"What?" Logan asked absently, as he merged with the other students filtering back into the building, his attention fixed on Veronica's shiny blond ponytail.

"Veronica Mars," Dick elaborated, his voice carrying clearly in the crowded hallway.

Logan turned to look into Dick's smug, smirking face and felt anger rushing through him. _Shit_. He'd been so focused on missing Veronica that he'd forgotten to clue in the 09ers on how to treat her. He was working so hard to give her space that the other 09ers were confused about how to react around her. While it was good that the troops followed his orders exactly, sometimes he wished they weren't such lemmings, that they could occasionally figure things out for themselves.

Maybe that was part of the reason he was so hopelessly in love with Veronica Mars. She never kissed up to him, even while she was actually kissing him. She was always her own person, not defined by him or the least bit deterred by the bullshit that swirled around her. She appeared to be too far ahead of them to hear Dick, but the rest of the student body surrounded them, waiting to see how Logan reacted to the first jab against her.

"Yeah," Dick continued eagerly, "first she did you, now she's kicked Duncan to the curb. I wonder who she'll—"

Dick stopped speaking abruptly when Logan put his arm across his shoulders. To a casual observer, it looked like a careless 'guy' gesture. It was intended to. After all, a general never berated his soldiers in front of the enemy. Casually, Logan dug his fingers into Dick's neck. Dick looked at Logan and swallowed hard. He didn't attempt to finish his sentence in the now quiet hall.

A few people tittered at Dick's malicious humor. The 09ers turned to look at Logan expectantly, sly smiles and eager anticipation highlighting their faces. Now that Veronica was no longer officially dating an 09er, they were waiting for their cue from him. Were they supposed to go after her again or was her breakup with Duncan cordial enough that they would have to at least pretend to treat her civilly?

Logan gave his troops a hard stare. The 09ers caught on immediately, turning away and smoothing their expressions to bland disinterest. Logan dug his fingers a little deeper into Dick's neck then abruptly let go. He flushed with bitter shame knowing that no one thought _he _would attempt to protect her. Hell, they all expected him to be the first to strike out at her.

Shit. He had even set up Dick's not-so-smart crack about her. It was his fucking responsibility to make sure that no one treated her like crap again and he was playing setup man for one of his own stooges. It was just one more insult in the nearly endless list of things for her to hold against him.

He scowled again and broke away from the crowd, going to Veronica's locker. He halted at the end of the hall. She was exchanging her books while Wallace leaned on the locker next to her and chatted with some of his buddies. Logan looked through the crowd of ball players carefully but it appeared that Timmy wasn't one of them.

There was no point in approaching her when a crowd surrounded her. He turned to head to his own locker but stopped again when he saw Dick and some of the other 09ers walking towards her. Logan sighed and turned back. Dick was a pretty simple guy but he wasn't completely stupid, was he? Dick had better not be dumb enough to take another shot at Veronica now that Logan had made it clear that she was off-limits.

If Dick went after Veronica, it would do more than royally piss off Logan. It would also undermine Logan's authority and credibility. Logan would have no choice but to knock down his second in command. The minute he lost control of his troops was the minute he might as well walk around school with a 'kick me' sign on his back. And protecting Veronica was now at the top of his list of priorities.

Dick and company stopped in front of Veronica. Logan saw that not just Wallace, but all of his basketball buddies turned to face the 09ers. Wallace shifted closer to Veronica, as though ready to defend her if necessary. Logan strode over before Dick's mouth got them all in trouble.

"Hey, Ronnie," Dick called out. "Sorry to hear about you and Duncan. Why don't you stop by the kick-ass bash I'm throwing at my place tonight?"

Veronica stared at him for a moment, then shook her head briefly. "I'm busy," she answered shortly.

"It's gonna be a blast," Dick urged. "I already checked with Duncan. He says he's not coming tonight." He grinned at her companionably. "It'll be a chance for you to drown your sorrows. You know, do a little dance." He gyrated his hips suggestively. "Make a little love. Get down tonight." Dick finished off his little dance number with spin and smacked his own ass.

Veronica stared at him in open disgust. Wallace curled his hands into fists and leaned closer to her. The other basketball players shifted uneasily. But Dick was clueless to it all as Logan came to stand at his shoulder. Dick glanced over and nodded at Logan.

"Logan's going to be at the party tonight, aren't you, Logan?" Dick continued. "Course, he always likes _coming_ to my house…" he trailed off with a grin, elbowing Logan's arm knowingly.

Veronica hissed in her breath and her expression hardened. Logan could have strangled Dick with his bare hands. If he hadn't had an audience, he probably would have.

"No," Logan denied immediately, "I'm not."

Veronica slammed her locker shut and pushed forward aggressively. Dick stepped back but continued to try to 'persuade' her.

"We'll all make sure you have a good time, Ronnie," he promised.

Screw the troops, the war, and his second-in-command. Hell, screw their damn audience. Suddenly, none of that mattered to Logan. He _was_ going to strangle Dick. First Dick had to bring up Kendall, then he kept pushing Veronica to attend his party. Logan now understood how much Veronica hated 09er parties and the horrifying memories they brought back for her. Damn it. All the shit she had put up with for him and he never once appreciated it.

"I already have plans," Veronica informed him icily.

Logan stepped forward but her words froze him to his marrow. _What kind of plans?_ _And with whom?_ Shit. Was she going to be with Duncan? Had Duncan been begging her for another chance? Had she decided to try again now that she thought Logan had gone back to screwing Kendall?

Logan recalled the kicked puppy look on Duncan's face. Veronica had definitely been the one to initiate the break-up. And Duncan obviously wanted her back.

Panic welled up in his chest and he sucked in his breath harshly. Damn it. Had he just pushed her back into Duncan's arms? And worse, pushed her back into Duncan's bed? Hell, no. She was his girl and _he_ was her guy. They were going to straighten this out and neither one of them were going to fuck anyone else.

"Veronica," he called, trying to maneuver around the ballers to her.

But she ignored him as she was so good at doing and slipped away. Logan ground his teeth as he watched her blend into the crowd and away from him. He turned to vent his frustration on Dick.

"What the hell was that?" Logan demanded.

Dick looked genuinely confused. "I invited her to my party. We're supposed to still be nice to her, right?"

Logan hissed out his breath in frustration. There was no point in beating the crap out of the dumb blond. Dick just didn't get it. He had actually been trying to be nice to Veronica in his own dickish way. Logan was now aware of how she perceived his friends and how outsiders took their comments. She was always looking for the insult, always protecting herself from the attack and completely unwilling to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Bitter experience had taught her that the 09ers couldn't be trusted.

If Logan thought his morning had sucked, his afternoon was worse. He didn't see Veronica all afternoon – probably by her design. The confirmation of her breakup with Duncan was the main topic of conversation in all his classes. He was aware that people were watching him, trying to gauge his reaction, waiting for him to be the first to pounce on a now vulnerable Veronica.

Logan had immediately shut down Dick when he tried to take a shot at her. But he had done it quietly and subtly so most people – except the 09ers – didn't know where he stood. That it was even in doubt where he stood regarding Veronica, both in her perception and that of the whole damn school, was fucking depressing. Most people thought he was still the bitter asshole who would take pleasure in treating her badly.

Fuck.

If other people were thinking that, then what was Veronica thinking? Did she assume that Dick's party invitation was a veiled reference to her slut reputation? Was she thinking that, if she went, she would be subjected to a repeat of Shelly Pomeroy's party? Logan's blood ran cold at the thought.

_We'll all make sure you have a good time._

The last time they had done that, she had woken up alone and without her underwear. Then she had spent the next year listening to them torment her about that night and anything else Logan could think of. Veronica Mars was Neptune's version of _The Most Dangerous Game_ to most of the 09ers and they couldn't wait to get her in their sights again.

Just as soon as Logan gave the word.

Shit.

He was out of his seat the second the last bell rang. He swung by Veronica's locker but wasn't surprised to see she wasn't there. He was out in the parking lot seconds later, scanning for the Le Baron as he hurried over to his car. Her car was already gone.

He made the ten-minute trip from school to her apartment in less than eight minutes. Her car was in the lot when he got there but there was no response when he knocked on her door. She wasn't there and neither was Backup.

He walked around the complex and down to the beach. There she was, still dressed in the denim skirt and jacket from school but barefoot in the cool sand. Backup ran around her in joyful circles, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Veronica wasn't in as good a mood as the pit bull. She held her cell phone to her ear and looked upset.

Logan hurried down to them. Backup spotted him and sprinted over, barking madly. Logan braced himself for the excited onslaught but the pit bull still set him on his ass. Backup panted happily and slobbered over Logan's face and outstretched arms in blissful doggie happiness.

"Down, boy," Logan ordered, laughing. It was nice that at least one member of the Mars family missed him and was openly delighted by his return. "I'm happy to see you, too, big guy."

It took him a few minutes to calm down the excited dog. But finally, the pit bull relaxed under Logan's long, soothing strokes. He looked up from Backup to Veronica. She had shut off her phone and was staring at the water with a small frown. Logan got up, dusted himself off and went to stand beside her.

"Hi," he said softly, trying to gauge her mood.

She was still staring off in the distance, small furrows between her brows. He reached over and gently stroked the wrinkles.

"Deep thoughts?" he asked quietly.

She jerked away from his touch and Logan felt his heart plummet. She continued to focus on the horizon, her eyes dark and serious.

"Is that deal still good?" she demanded.

His heart went from his stomach into his throat. Was the deal still good? What kind of stupid question was that? Of course, the deal was still good. _Hell, yes._

"Hell, yes," he growled.

She looked out at the water for a long time, nibbling continuously into her plump lower lip the whole time. Logan had to fight the urge to pull it free from her sharp little teeth and kiss it better. But he didn't. Instead he stood very still, waiting for her to take that final step. After a moment, she took a deep breath and seemed to come to a decision.

She nodded grimly. "Okay, then let's go," she ordered and turned back for her apartment.

Logan blinked and stared after her. What had brought this on? She had ignored him all day and now she suddenly wanted him back in her bed? Just like that? What about her anger and hurt over his jackass behavior last night?

He realized that she wasn't waiting for him to walk with her to her apartment. She just put one determined foot in front of the other, like a brave little soldier going to face a firing squad. Logan scowled and glared at her retreating back. Making love to him wasn't that big of a fucking hardship, was it? Then he paused to consider.

Maybe it was. Maybe what little sexual confidence she had regained with Duncan had been shattered by what he'd said last night. Maybe it was never that strong to begin with. But how could she not know her own appeal? How could she not see the way Duncan followed after her like a love-starved puppy? Or the way Logan watched her with the glittering eyes of an addict waiting for his next hit of crack to heat up?

He loved her, felt bone-deep lust for her, but maybe Veronica was no longer capable of trusting that kind of emotion. She'd had it rejected and twisted so much that she just put it away and settled for safe but arms-length love that kept her from ever being truly touched, ever being that hurt again.

That was the key difference between him and her. They both wanted to be safe, accepted and whole. In the end, they both wanted the same thing but went about obtaining it differently. She wanted everything or nothing from the people she loved, he was willing to settle for whatever he could get.

Her relationship with Duncan had been comfortable and easy. They accepted each other's quirks and foibles unquestioningly. Or they had ignored them. Veronica had felt safe with Duncan, she had trusted him and he had trusted her. Logan knew, from watching Duncan in school today, that Veronica's decision to break up with him had been completely unexpected and undesired.

Backup whined and startled Logan out of his musings. The pit bull stood a few feet away, looking from Veronica's retreating form to Logan frozen in the sand. Logan looked up and saw that she was nearly at the cement perimeter of the apartment complex. He sprinted up the beach after her, Backup following happily at his heels.

He caught up with her at her door, panting for breath. She unlocked it, still not looking at him and stepped through, leaving the door open behind her. Backup slipped inside and immediately went to his food dish. Logan was reminded of the dog food can and chew toy in his bedroom. They would be having this cozy domestic scene at his house if he hadn't fucked things up last night. He shoved his hand through his hair and looked down, watching her through his lashes.

Veronica went into the little kitchenette and pulled out a can identical to the one still on his bed. She put it under the electric can opener and Backup began to bark excitedly. He came up to her and butted his head against her leg.

"It's coming," she reassured, reaching down to absently pat the pit bull.

Backup barked again and trotted over to his water dish. He put his muzzle down into the dish and whined.

"Fill his water dish, please?" she ordered briskly.

"Sure." Logan went to pick up the water dish and got more slobbering kisses from Backup.

He straightened up and took the dish to the kitchen sink. He brushed against her in the tiny space and she immediately jerked away. Okay, what was going on here? She wouldn't look at him and didn't want him to touch her. Not much chance of his satisfying their deal – or her – unless she changed her attitude. He filled the water bowl and deliberately brushed against her on his way out of the kitchenette and she pulled away from him again.

"I'm going to need a bath if this dog doesn't stop drooling all over me," he joked as he put the dish down in front of an eager Backup. The pit bull immediately began to lap up the cool drink.

"I don't know why," she commented coldly. She still didn't look at him, focusing on shaking every last bit of dog food out of the can. "I think Backup's tongue is cleaner than a lot of the others that have been all over you lately."

At first Logan thought she was referring to herself as a bitter reminder of Timmy's earlier insult. He froze. Then she erased that fear with a final, cutting line.

"At least we know where Backup's been," she bit out. Then she turned away and dumped the can in the garbage bin.

Logan unfroze and his jaw hardened. "Yeah," he shot back. "He's been drinking out of the toilet and bringing in dead mice."

"He does not drink out of the toilet," she denied angrily.

"Veronica, what's going on?" he asked quietly.

"You just insulted my dog," she pointed out hotly. She turned to the sink and shoved up her sleeves.

"I didn't insult Backup. You insulted me," he pointed out. "And I'm not talking about him. I'm talking about us."

"The conditions of our deal are the same, right?" she asked, ignoring his question. "Anytime, anywhere, I call and you come, no questions asked?"

She turned on the water and made a production of washing up. She still wouldn't look at him.

"Well, you come too," he tried to tease her. "We didn't specify that but it's probably a deal breaker, isn't it?"

She didn't look amused. "Fine, I'm calling," she announced, her voice still cold and brisk. "I need your services for the afternoon."

"You can have me for as long as you want me. There's no time limit," he pointed out gently.

"Just the afternoon will be fine," she assured him.

But, funnily enough, he wasn't feeling assured. Something was off here. Veronica didn't look like a woman who was about to enjoy time with her lover. She looked like she was forcing herself to do something unpleasant but necessary. And Logan had the nasty feeling that _he _was the unpleasant but necessary thing she was going to do.

"Veronica, what's going on?" he asked again.

"No questions, remember? It is one of the conditions," she reminded him harshly. She turned off the water and reached for a towel to dry her hands.

He was starting to get mad. "Do you want me to strip right here or should I go into your bedroom first?" he snapped. "I don't want to shock the impressionable little doggie."

"Bedroom, please." The words were polite but her expression was remote and closed. She threw the towel in the direction of the sink and picked up the food bowl.

She didn't look at him as she brought the dish of dog food over to Backup. She put the bowl down and took a moment to scratch behind the pit bull's ears. She smiled at her pet, her features soft and warm, completely unlike the cold, remote glances she barely deigned to bestow on Logan. Backup got affection and soft smiles. Logan got icy stares and cold orders.

Great. Now he was jealous of a pit bull.

She glanced briefly over her shoulder. "Why are you still here?" she demanded.

He blinked in puzzlement. "You wanted me to stay," he pointed out.

She exhaled her breath in a put-upon sigh. "I told you to go into my bedroom," she spoke slowly and clearly, as though doubting his ability to comprehend.

"Fine," he snapped. "I'm going to wash up in your bathroom."

His mouth tightened into a thin line. So that's how she wanted to play it. She was giving him orders and expecting him to obey them without question. Maybe he should buy her that corset and whip, after all. However, he was smart enough to keep his thoughts to himself this time. Without another word, he turned on his heels and went through to her bathroom, resisting the urge to slam the door shut behind him.

He splashed water about angrily, getting his shirt and the counter wet. What the hell was wrong with her? He was doing everything he could to love her and she was treating him like someone she had picked up on a street corner. He stiffened and stopped splashing water.

Street corner.

_That's more money than you trick in a typical weekend._

He recalled Timmy and the crap he spewed. Damn it, Veronica had so much to be angry about. Logan sighed and reached for one of her soft, clean towels. Everything in Veronica's place was clean and well maintained. She didn't have anywhere near as much as he had, but she certainly took better care of what she did have. He quietly opened the bathroom door and went into her bedroom.

He looked around curiously. Not much had changed since the last time he had been in here. Her room was neat and functional, with pictures scattered about. He recognized most of the pictures, but there were some changes. Veronica had taken down all the pictures of him and of them. He glanced at her bedside table, where a picture of Keith and six-year-old Veronica shared a place of honor with a picture of Lilly taken just before her death and – Logan's mouth tightened – a recent picture of Veronica with Duncan. Logan crossed to her bedside and snatched up the picture. He was about to slam it facedown when something in the photo caught his eye.

It was the expression on Veronica's face.

He brought the picture closer to his face to study it. Duncan was behind Veronica in the shot, his arms wrapped around her shoulders and peaceful happiness on his face. But Veronica's expression was more determination than joy. As though she had told herself that she would be happy and her tremendous strength of will would make it happen. Logan struggled to find a description for her earnest but guarded expression. He finally decided that she looked…hopeful.

The anger drained out of Logan. It was all suddenly so clear to him. Veronica was on a mission. She wanted to make herself whole again and work her way through the pain she had suffered. She was being bitchy because she was testing him, trying to reassure herself that he would stay, no matter how hard she pushed him. And he was failing miserably.

Determination flooded through him. He could help her. He could make this better and easier for her. She needed reassurance that he was going to be here for her, that she could push him and, while he would push back, he'd never push her _away_ again; that he was going to be the man she wanted for a change. No more pool fires, no more inciting class wars and certainly no more hurtful, smartass comments.

He was so focused on his pep talk that he didn't notice when she came into the room. It wasn't until she snatched the picture out of his hand that he became aware of her. He looked up at her in surprise. She continued to not look at him as she opened the drawer and laid down the photo gently.

"I was just looking," he pointed out, his voice calm and even.

"You're not here to look," she informed him harshly. "You're here to perform."

"Okay," he said gently.

She turned to look at him in shock. Her head whipped around so fast that her ponytail snapped out. But she was finally _looking _at him. That was a huge step forward.

He knew she expected him to lash out at her with angry and sarcastic words. But now he understood what she needed and was more than willing to give it to her. He reached out to stroke her hair and she stiffened. He pretended not to notice her reaction as he slid his fingers through her silky ponytail. He fumbled with her hairclip but finally released it. Her long blond hair tumbled onto her shoulders

"You are so beautiful, Veronica," he whispered.

She blinked in surprise. That bothered him. Hadn't he ever told her she was beautiful before? He tried to think back over their too-brief relationship. He had told her she was precious, that she was everything, but he couldn't recall ever telling her how lovely she was.

It took her a few seconds to regroup. "Spare the bullshit for the next bimbo," she advised coolly. "I don't fall for it anymore."

"It's the truth," he said softly, refusing to let her words hurt him.

He gently stroked around her neck into the fragile dip at the base of her throat. She shivered and her eyes widened. He let his fingers trail down to the edge of her t-shirt. He paused to look into her eyes. Her expression was carefully blank but she wasn't trying to pull away. Slowly, he shifted closer, until he could feel the buttons of her jacket brush against his shirt. He pressed a light, tentative butterfly kiss to the tip of her nose. Relief rushed through him. He hadn't lost her.

He ran his fingers along the neckline of her shirt to her jacket lapels. He followed the lapels down until his hands brushed against her breasts. Her nipples peaked from just that fleeting contact, straining against the dual barriers of her shirt and bra. He pushed the jacket aside so he could see her breasts swelling against the smooth cotton of her t-shirt.

"I found your bra this morning," he told her softly, watching her nipples harden even more.

"I was too sore to wear it last night," she admitted reluctantly. "I borrowed your shirt because it covered up better than mine did."

He gently coasted around her breasts and cupped them. "Do they still hurt now?"

She refused to answer.

"Does it hurt when I do this?" he asked as he brushed his thumbs lightly over the hardened nipples.

She took a quick breath but did not reply.

"Veronica?" he prompted, pinching her nipples very, very gently.

She looked down to watch his hands on her breasts but still said nothing.

"I know they're sore," he insisted. "Your breasts are so sensitive, baby." He cupped her gently.

She stepped back, freeing her breasts. "I'm not your baby," she informed him coldly. "I don't need or want the seduction routine, Logan. Just shut up and take off your clothes."

His mouth dropped open. This was a lot more forward that she had ever been with him before. But he was here to serve. He nodded and calmly began to undress. She watched him for a moment then began to shed her own clothes. She slipped off the jacket and pulled the t-shirt over her head, her plump lower lip pressed flat with determination.

He yanked at his shirt as he toed off his sneakers. His thick, long sleeved shirt twisted around his torso in his haste to pull it off. He yanked harder and heard a faint tearing sound as he finally pulled it over his head. He dropped the shirt carelessly at his feet, hands falling to the waistband of his jeans. He had just unbuttoned them when he looked up at her and froze.

She was uncovering her delectable body to him, piece by piece. She wore a plain white cotton bra and bikini briefs today. To Logan, the set was as alluring as the silky pink ensemble she'd worn yesterday just because it graced her lovely body. She did a final little wiggle and the slim skirt slid down her legs. She put her arms behind her back to unclasp her bra when he caught her up in his arms and thrust his tongue into her mouth.

She flailed for a second, startled by his sudden move then put her hands on his shoulders for balance. He fell back onto her bed, holding her firmly in his arms. She gasped into his mouth at the sudden descent. Once they landed and bounced on the bed, she twisted around and wrenched her mouth free.

"Stop that," she ordered, her breathing already disrupted and too fast.

"Stop what?" he inquired as he went after her mouth again.

"Kissing me." She turned her head to evade his questing mouth.

He pulled back. "Why?"

"We're wasting time," she insisted as she sat up and reached around for her bra clasp again. "I don't want any of this. I just want to fuck."

But he wanted more. In fact, he wanted it all. He wanted kisses, romantic whispers and cuddling in the afterglow. He wanted her to smile at him and giggle with the pure pleasure of being with him. He wasn't just a fuck, any more than _they _were just a fuck. She was refusing to see it right now, but he was her future.

He was going make up for the stupidity that had taken her away from him, time after time.

He was no longer suffering from the grief that made him turn against her after Lilly died. He had stepped back from the fury and misplaced bravado that pushed her away during their summer in hell. Now he just had to put away the insecurity that had pushed him to attack her last night. He had to consciously decide to _trust her_.

He levered himself to a sitting position to remain close to her irresistible mouth. She straddled his thighs but kept her weight on her knees. He pushed back a bit, separating their bodies, so he could soak in her pink and blond beauty.

She pulled her bra straps down her arms and freed her breasts. Her nipples, normally the same sweet pale pink as her lips, were colored a deeper rose and looked bruised. He cupped her breasts and gently stroked his thumbs over the tips. The nipples puckered into tight peaks and she sucked in her breath.

He looked into her eyes anxiously. "That hurts, doesn't it?"

She scowled at him. "It's not your problem."

Not his problem? How the fuck could that not be his problem? He was her lover. He was responsible for making sure she was happy and satisfied when they made love. If she was sore, they weren't going to go any further. He would only hurt their future, as well as her body, if he continued. He opened his mouth to make the noble sacrifice when she began to wiggle against him. Then every rational thought flew out of his head.

She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her underwear. She shifted onto her hip to shove them down her legs. She twisted around so that she was half on him, half off of him and wiggled out of her panties. The curve of her hip was pressed into the seam of his jeans, right where he wanted the pressure the most. His cock, which was already semi-aroused, hardened and thickened from her unintentional massage. He moaned with appreciation.

She looked into his face suspiciously. "What was that?"

"That's what being near you does to me," he explained, hooking his arm around her waist. "Hell," he growled, "that's what just _thinking_ about you does to me."

He pulled her flush against him, her breasts flattened against his chest, her warm belly rubbing against his, and her naked thighs straddling his jean-clad legs. He wrapped his arms around her, trying hard not to hold her too tightly, trying not to telegraph his nearly overwhelming _need_ for her. He reminded himself that her needs were paramount.

Satisfying her needs was the key to satisfying his own. This was for her, not for him. She needed to feel safe and in control, not trapped. He fastened his mouth to the base of her throat and her breath hitched. Oh yes, there were _huge_ rewards for keeping her satisfied.

He kissed his way up her neck, across her cheek and back to that luscious mouth he had been deprived of all day. This time she met his tongue and shoved it back into his mouth, rising up on her knees to force his head back and dominate the kiss.

He followed her lead willingly, allowing her to push him back until he was lying flat on the small, twin-sized mattress. Abruptly, she pulled away from his mouth and began to wiggle down his body, forcing him to release her. His breath hissed out on an involuntary gasp as she slid down, the hot friction and delicate sweep of her hair along his chest making his abdomen clench in excitement. His nipples puckered in anticipation.

But she bypassed his nipples and he couldn't hold back a whine of disappointment. He hadn't meant to do it. He didn't want to pressure her. It was just that the pleasure of her mouth on his nipples was one of the few wonderful memories he had of their summer in hell.

She stopped her downward decent and looked into his face, her fingers curled into the waistband of his jeans. A small, anxious frown pulled down the corners of her mouth and he instantly felt like an insensitive jackass.

"Now what's wrong?" she demanded.

Her voice was harsh but he could see the anxiety in her eyes. He briefly debated denying that anything was amiss but discarded it instantly. She was already unsure and hurting, probably already looking for a reason to kick him out of her bed. Even the smallest lie might be enough to have him out on his ass. So, he went with the truth.

He swallowed hard. "I thought you were going to kiss my nipples," he admitted.

She narrowed her eyes then looked down at his chest. His nipples shrank and hardened further under that knowing gaze. Then she looked back into his eyes and smiled, a gleaming, predatory smile.

"Kiss?" she questioned throatily. "Did you really want me to kiss your nipples, Logan?" She shifted, sliding up his body. "Or do you want me to suck them?"

There it was, the first signs of confidence blooming in her beautiful face. Her eyes began to soften and her lips curved up into a smug smile. She slid her hands up his abdomen, pressing firmly, kneading his muscles with her palms. She stopped just short of his nipples, her palms resting on his healed ribs, her fingers curved over but not touching the twin aching points.

He sucked his breath in again. "Either. Both. Anything," he gasped.

"Anything, Logan?" she questioned, nearly purring.

She leaned forward, pressing the heels of her hands into his firm pectorals. She relaxed her fingers so that they now rested lightly on top of his aroused nipples, just barely touching them. Involuntarily, he rose up, trying to press firmly against her fingers. But she rode out the movement, her fingers still only lightly brushing his nipples. He whined again in frustration.

"'Anything' is a dangerous word, Logan," she informed him, her voice dropping to a husky pitch. "It makes me think there are no limits to what I can do to you. Is that true?"

Her smile became more confident. She stroked around his areola with light teasing fingers. His nipples tightened until they tingled and his cock pressed against the seam of his jeans. Damn, he had never been this sensitive until Veronica. She made him aware of his own body and what she could do with it like no one else he had ever been with.

She looked down to admire her handiwork and her hair fell forward. It hid her face and smug expression. He ducked his chin, wanting to see the first bloom of sexual pleasure in her face but careful not to dislodge her caressing fingers. Abruptly, she caught his nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, pinching sharply. His spine bowed back in response and he shuddered.

"Veronica, please, don't tease me," he pleaded.

"But that's exactly what I'm going to do," she informed him sweetly. "I like teasing you. I like having you helpless to me."

He wasn't helpless, he wanted to deny to her. But she pulled on his trapped nipples and the thought was forgotten.

"Are you ready for this?" she asked, bending over his chest. Her warm, moist breath fanned his neck and his heart began to pound visibly against his chest.

His stomach clenched in anticipation. He buried his hands into her silky blond hair, pushing it away from her face. Her mouth hovered over his nipple and her delicate pink tongue snaked out to barely touch the tip. He had to shut his eyes against the nearly overwhelming lust and his muscles locked.

"Yes," he hissed out from between gritted teeth. "I'm ready. I'm ready for anything and everything you want to do to me, baby."


	10. Chapter 10

Veronica purred when she circled his nipple with her warm, wet tongue. Logan bit into his lower lip to keep from moaning, trying to make the pain overcome the pleasure. He didn't want to distract her in any way. His lungs were burning from the lack of air, but he didn't dare move or make any sound that might cause her to stop.

But then she bit him. Her sharp little teeth sunk into his nipple and he made a sound, half moan, half gasp, and she looked up anxiously. His body demanded oxygen and he harshly sucked in a lungful of air. Was that it? Was that enough to make her kick him out of her bed?

Veronica rose, tilted her head to the side and studied him. If his lungs weren't so oxygen-deprived he would have held his breath again. Instead he took tiny, anxious pants that sounded abnormally loud in the silent room.

She reached out and traced his bruised lower lip. "You shouldn't do that," she admonished gently. "It'll bleed."

He blinked up at her in blank confusion. He was terrified that he was about to lose her forever and she was worried about him cutting his lip? Either she had no intention of kicking him to the curb or her priorities were seriously skewed.

"Veronica…" he began.

She cut him off by swooping down and capturing his lower lip between her own. She ran her tongue along the contour, as though checking for damage, then released the wet, throbbing lip by pulling her head back and letting it slide out of her mouth.

Immediately he jackknifed up, gaze fixed on that wicked, teasing mouth, intent on getting a real kiss. She let him press his lips to hers but pulled away when he tried to snake his tongue into her mouth.

"Veronica," he protested, cringing inside at his whining, pleading tone.

She smiled slowly, seductively and – _yes_ – confidently. "It's not that easy, Logan," she explained, tapping his nose playfully with the tip of her finger. "You have to earn kisses."

"How?" he demanded instantly. "What do I have to do?" It didn't occur to him to argue or disagree with her. All he wanted was the fastest, easiest way into her mouth, her body, her good graces and her heart.

"Do exactly as I say," she whispered.

He nodded eagerly as she pressed against his shoulders. Obediently, he lay back down and stretched out as comfortably as he could in the narrow bed. His gaze roamed hungrily over her naked body as she straightened up, straddling his jean-clad hips.

She smiled when she realized that he wasn't going to fight her. "Good boy," she praised approvingly.

"Is that worth a kiss?" he asked eagerly.

"Hmm…" She tilted her head as she considered it.

Logan bit the inside of his cheek to hold back his smile. She was going to let him kiss her. He knew it. He just _knew_ it.

Then she dipped her head and kissed him. A full on, teeth grinding, tongue to the back of his throat kiss that sucked all the blood out of his head. She separated from his mouth with an audible pop, leaving him gasping for air.

"I'm going to pass out soon if you keep that up," he wheezed out.

"Aww, poor Logan," she mocked, "No stamina. We'll have to work on that."

"What do you suggest?" he asked, willing his pounding heart to ease its frantic pumping. "Meditation? Yoga? Pilates?"

"How about you shut up and let me worry about it?" she suggested and crushed his mouth under hers again.

That worked. He kissed her back fiercely. If Veronica wanted to be in charge, that was fine by him. As long as he got to be underneath her lush little body and the focus of whatever her ingenious little hands and her devious, quick mind wanted to do, he was a happy guy.

If his heart held out, that is. What was she doing to him? He'd had sex before, he had been kissed before. What was so different about her? Why did his heart pound like he had just taken a jolt from a defibrillator? It was just a kiss; a little soul-shattering, mind-emptying, foundation-shaking kiss.

Then she pulled away and it didn't matter why he reacted the way he did to her. He just wanted it again. He reached for her and she took his hands into hers.

"No," she commanded. "I'm in charge now."

Logan took a deep breath. That's right. This was for her. No matter what it did for him, they were making love for her. Veronica needed him to submit to her. She needed to feel her power over him. That's how she would feel safe and regain her trust in him.

It took a surprising amount of effort to relax his body. Relaxing his muscles with Veronica in the vicinity, let alone naked and straddling him, was harder than anything he had ever experienced before.

Except for the hard-on he got from Veronica.

He released his breath, making the wispy tendrils of her bangs dance. He grinned up at her and she smiled back. His heart expanded. She was so close and so hot and so _his._

"I love you so much, Veronica," he whispered.

That had been the wrong thing to say. Instantly the sweet smile disappeared and she pushed away from him. He caught her waist as she tried to swing her leg over his hips and get out of the bed.

"No, don't," he pleaded. "I'm sorry. What? What did I do wrong?"

"Don't try to turn this into something it isn't, Logan," she ordered coldly. "This is supposed to be no-strings sex. That's what you promised me. If you can't deliver, then tell me now."

He realized his palms were sweaty as he shifted his grip on her waist. He didn't let go, just repositioned to hold her more comfortably but still firmly.

"This will be whatever you want it to be," he promised. "But it's going to be honest. I'm not going to lie to you, Veronica. I'm going to tell you exactly how I feel. I'm not going to hold anything back. If it's easier for you to pretend this is just a fuck, that's fine. Just don't expect me to do the same."

She grabbed the pillow beside his head and held it to her breasts, effectively hiding her body from him. Veronica equated being naked with being vulnerable, which was odd given that most of the brutal hurts she had suffered – Logan's defection after Lilly's death, Duncan's zombie-like state, her mother's desertion, Logan's vicious taunts about Kendall – were delivered when she was fully dressed.

But the one delivered when she had been naked and helpless loomed largest in her mind.

He hated that she felt vulnerable and scared. He hated that she felt she had to hide and protect herself from him. Most of all, he hated that he had been part of most of the circumstances that made her feel that way.

"I'm not trying to change the rules," he insisted gently. "I'm trying to live up to them. I'm being honest with you, Veronica. No lies and no bullshit. Anything I say to you will be the truth."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Right," she agreed, sarcasm dripping from that single word.

"It will be," he insisted. "I want this to work, Veronica. I'll give you whatever you want."

She looked at him for a moment, her expression blank. He sucked in his breath at the same time she did. They were silent for a moment, each studying the other, trying to judge the sincerity and the risks.

"I want to fuck you," she finally announced.

He shut his eyes as he simultaneously released her waist and the air trapped in his lungs. His hands were trembling as he trailed them down her hips and across her smooth thighs before laying them flat on the bed. He raised his eyelids and looked deeply into her rapidly-darkening blue eyes.

"I'm all yours," he promised.

She hesitated for a moment longer then cautiously put aside the pillow. But Logan noticed that she kept it close to her hip. She needed the reassurance – as illusionary as it was – that she could put up a barrier between them whenever she needed.

She bent over him then stopped. She looked at him suspiciously, as though expecting him to stop her. But he smiled encouragingly and she dropped her head to his chest – and his nipple.

She didn't bite this time. She just licked him with long, wet swipes with the flat of her tongue. He put his hands into her hair to push it away and give him an unobstructed view of her talented pink tongue. A shudder passed through him. It was like watching a lioness grooming her mate, an act of dominance and complete possession.

His fingers tightened in her hair and he fought to keep his breathing steady and even. He didn't want to alarm her. He wanted to keep her relaxed and secure. Good things came to him when Veronica was relaxed and secure. _Veronica_ came when she was relaxed and secure.

He was so focused on watching her lick his nipple that he didn't notice her hand sliding stealthily down his ribs. It wasn't until her fingertip sunk into his bellybutton and sent an electric shock straight up his spine that he realized how mesmerized he had been. He sucked in his breath, tightening his abs and causing his chest to expand.

Veronica shifted to his other nipple, biting lightly and sucking the stiff disk into her mouth. He shuddered from the pure pleasure of it. Instinctively his hips rose, searching for the friction of her warm, wet center. He thrust his denim-covered penis against the damp curls.

Veronica jerked and pulled away. Immediately he froze.

"What happened? What's wrong?" he demanded.

"Be still," she ordered. "You don't get to make the moves. I'm in charge here."

He was all for letting her lead but he couldn't just lie limply underneath her. His body physically couldn't keep from reacting to her. He opened his mouth to explain that but she swooped down and sealed his lips with her own. She wound her tongue around his and drew it into her mouth. And promptly sucked every thought out of his head.

She stretched out along his body, her naked breasts flattened against his chest, her warm belly pressed against his. She scrambled for a few seconds then pressed her knee between his thighs. He parted his legs and let her settle in the cradle of his thighs.

She finally released his mouth and he gasped for breath. He had almost regained it when she slipped her hot little hand under the waistband of his jeans and his boxers. His jeans were loose and comfortable, allowing her to glide lightly along the length of his cock and straight down to his balls. She cupped them and his hips bucked, nearly throwing her off his body.

"Shit," he gasped as she massaged his balls. He clamped his eyes shut and saw stars behind his eyelids. "Don't stop," he pleaded. "Don't ever stop."

"Ohh, what happened to the famed Logan Echolls stamina?" she taunted. "I thought you could take it all night." But she didn't stop, finding the sensitive skin at the base of his penis and rubbing firmly with her thumb.

There were no words, nothing he could say. His hips bucked again and he felt Veronica shift her weight off his body. He opened his eyes and watched her mouth drop back to his nipple. He could only whimper.

"Shh," she soothed. She pressed her fingers against his lips to quiet him.

The sound vibrated against his nipple and it was all he could do not to come right then and there. He opened his mouth and her fingers slipped in. He sucked strongly on them, trying desperately to distract himself from the pleasure and keep himself in check. He made a guttural, choking sound.

Veronica purred in response and the vibrations passed into his nipple. And it was too much.

Logan was paralyzed for a second. Then the familiar prickling sensation rushed into his balls. He bucked hard, throwing Veronica to the side.

"Logan?" she questioned.

But he was beyond hearing her. He scrambled off the bed, intent only on getting into the bathroom before he humiliated himself in front of her.

Again.

He barely made it. He yanked down his jeans and boxer with one hand and grabbed the discarded towel with his other. Slumping against the sink, he pressed his forehead against the cool glass as he came into the towel.

Two minutes. He had barely held on for _two fucking_ _minutes_. Why couldn't he keep it up around her? And why should he expect her to want to be with him? Fuck, what was wrong with him? What the hell had happen to his control?

Veronica walked into the bathroom, now bundled up in her terrycloth robe. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, a sure sign that she was feeling threatened.

"I take it our little interlude is over?" she questioned in a brittle voice, arching one finely shaped brow.

He turned to her, his breathing labored and his color high. His jeans and boxers were pooled around his ankles and he was still holding the towel to his cock. It took him a few seconds to regroup. He threw the towel into the sink and yanked up his boxer and jeans. He suddenly understood her need to cover herself when she was vulnerable. Clothes gave the illusion of protection, armor against the barbs of hurtful words and actions.

"No, we're not finished," he snarled, fumbling with the fastening on his jeans. "We haven't even started."

She shook her head. "Why even bother, Logan?" she asked coldly. "Let's just forget the whole thing. This deal is finished. Go home or go to Dick's party and screw Kendall. I don't want to do this anymore." She turned to walk out of the bathroom.

"_No_," he cried out. His throat closed up and he could barely choke out the word.

He lunged for her and caught her around the waist, tugging her into his arms. The blood was roaring into his ears. He knew this was going to happen. She was only going to give him this one last chance and he had fucked it up.

She held herself stiffly, her back pressed into his bare chest. "Let me go," she ordered. Her words were as sharp and as brittle as jagged ice.

"I can't," he squeaked. He took a deep breath and breathed her perfume and powder scent. Her silky hair tickled his cheek and he pressed his lips against the fine blond mass. He cleared his throat before he tried to speak again. "I'm so sorry, baby."

"There is no point in continuing this, Logan," she insisted. "You're obviously not up to it and it's not doing either of us any good to force you." She pushed against his arms, trying to wiggle free.

Logan shuddered, feeling her round, firm ass press into his cock as she struggled. He had just humiliated himself and his body was gearing up to make a fool of him again. He took another ragged breath to bring himself under control.

She took advantage of his momentary lax and jerked free. She turned to face him, her eyes glittering with the fire of the upcoming battle. Her mouth was compressed into a thin line and her hands were curled into fists.

Logan ducked his head and prepared for the verbal blow. He crossed his arms over his chest, _his_ normal defensive gesture. His hands gripped the opposite biceps, unintentionally covering the passionate bruises she had given him yesterday. Veronica would give as good as she got. Last night he had nearly ripped her open with the Kendall remarks. Now she would return the favor.

"Goodbye, Logan," Veronica said calmly.

He looked up, shocked. She wasn't going to attack him? No one he had ever gone against before, not Aaron or the PCHers, not even Veronica herself, had ever left the battle when _he_ was down for the count. But Veronica turned away and walked back into her bedroom.

She wasn't going to go for the killing blow.

Why not?

She deserved to. He knew how badly he had hurt her last night. And he finally understood how badly he had hurt her with the ugly rumors he had helped create and perpetuate and with the year of cruelty. Now he had left himself wide open for, at least, some vicious taunts and the destruction of his 'stud' reputation.

But instead of taunting him, or yelling at him, she had turned away. She had dismissed him. Panic coiled inside him, clenching in his abdomen like a vicious snake. He had spent the whole day and the sleepless night feeling what it was liked to be ignored in Veronica's world.

He wasn't ever going to let it happen to him again.

He followed her back into her room, the thin carpeting muffling his steps. He caught her up in his arms and lifted her off the floor. She was such a tiny thing that it took barely any effort to scoop her up and carry her over to her bed. He dropped down on the rumpled covers, keeping her in his lap, no easy feat as she wiggled fiercely in his arms.

"Let me go," she demanded, still struggling.

"Hell, no," he swore.

She struggled harder, pressing with straight arms and hands flat against his chest. Her eyes glittered with fury and something more. "What do you want from me?" she demanded.

"Everything," he answered with simple honesty.

She stopped struggling to stare at him blankly, as though he was speaking in some language she'd never heard before. He buried his face in her shoulder and dropped kisses into the soft skin at the base of her neck.

He did want it all, the good, the bad and everything in between. He wanted to matter and be important in her life. He wanted her to yell at him when he pissed her off but also take him in her arms and kiss him senseless when he made her happy.

He wanted everything, _anything_, but to be left out of her life.

"Please don't do this, Veronica," he pleaded brokenly. "I'm sorry. I'll do better. It's just that it's _you_ and I can't control myself."

In a sudden burst of strength, she pushed against his chest and pulled out of his arms. She scrambled inelegantly to her feet and turned to face him. Her face was flushed red with fury.

"So this is my fault?" she demanded. "I'm the reason you can't keep it up? You were able to perform for Kendall and that freshman at Shelly's party and for Caitlin and any other girl who walked past you."

The soft, vulnerable Veronica who had looked at him last night with tears and resignation was gone. Now her eyes were clear and icy. Warrior Veronica had remerged with a vengeance, the girl who lashed out at the people who tried to hurt her and didn't take shit from anyone.

"Okay, maybe it is my fault," she suddenly agreed, her voice as sharp as a whip. "I'm not really a slut so you don't know what the hell to do with me. That's fine. I don't need you or your charity. Just get the hell out of my house."

Logan stared at her open-mouthed for a moment, unable to form words. _Fault?_ He wasn't trying to blame her. He was trying to explain why she meant so much to him, why she was so special. How badly had he wounded her sexual confidence that she thought he would try to make her responsible for his failure?

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. She was supposed to be regaining her confidence with him. Instead, he had shattered what little bits she had managed to keep together. How had something so beautiful gotten so twisted?

And how was he supposed to fix it?

"I love you, Veronica," he said quietly. It was the only thing he could think to say.

She stared at him again. Then she shook her head as though to clear it. "Get out," she ordered coldly.

"I'm not leaving," he insisted, his voice rising with his agitation. "And I'm not blaming you. But, damn it, you were sucking my nipple and rubbing my balls and you thought it wouldn't have an effect on me? Do you think I'm made of stone or something?"

"I heard you were a stud," she replied coolly. "In fact, you told me yourself how good you were."

"I'm an eighteen-year-old guy who's finally gotten the girl who's been giving him a hard-on for the past year." He was waving his hands around to emphasis his point, as he always did when he was trying to express things that words alone could not explain. "Every time I'm with you, I'm so amazed that you're with me that I forget everything else. This doesn't happen because I don't want you. It's because I want you more than _anything_ else in the world."

He looked anxiously into her chilly blue eyes. Was he getting through to her? Did she understand what he was trying to tell her? Did she _believe_ what he was telling her?

He got off her bed and stepped towards her. She skittered back, pulling the lapels of her bathrobe closer to her throat. He stopped. He took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. Yelling at her wasn't going to help the situation. But how could she doubt how he felt about her?

"Do you understand that?" he asked quietly. His voice was strained with the effort it took to keep it even. "Do you get that I screw up because I can't separate sex and love when I'm with you? You can't either, Veronica," he pointed out. "You can't be with me and just have it be sex, either."

She lifted her chin defiantly. "Yes, I can."

"Then why are you so pissed off about my performance?" he demanded.

"_Lack_ of performance," she corrected.

"Whatever," he snarled. "If it's just sex then it shouldn't matter if I screw up. You just wave me off and find somebody better."

"Maybe I will," she snapped.

He took a step back and stared at her in horror. Those three words, said in the heat of anger, touched a place inside of Logan that was so raw and bruised, that he shuddered visibly from it. There was very little left in Logan's life, a sister who constantly forgot him, a father he was trying desperately to forget and a tiny blond who twisted him inside out.

If he lost Veronica again, if he had to watch her with another guy, how would he survive it? Fear was a dull, metallic taste in the back of his mouth. It was a taste he was familiar with, one he lived with every day. But he had never felt the fear the way he did now.

He turned away from her clumsily and his knee connected sharply with the bedpost.

"Damn it!" he swore.

The pain from his knee streaked into his brain and momentarily pushed aside the pain of her threat. He slumped onto her bed and grabbed his knee as though trying to compress the throbbing, trying to control this pain because he had no control over the other one.

Veronica stepped closer to him. "Does it hurt?" she asked reluctantly.

Of course it hurt. What kind of stupid question was that? His mouth twisted in disgust and he looked up to glare at her. But she was considerably closer now, almost next to the bed, and she looked unwillingly concerned. As always, Veronica played fair. She didn't kick a person when they were down.

Like he would have done.

Like Aaron had taught him to do.

He looked directly into her eyes. "Yeah," he said quietly, "it hurts." There was no rancor in his words. He spoke them quietly, simply. He wasn't talking about his knee and they both knew it.

"I can get you some ice," she offered grudgingly.

He caught her hand before she could move away. "Don't bother, it's not that big a deal."

She bit her lower lip. "You've had worse," she supplied, speaking his thoughts aloud.

"Yeah." He tugged on her hand again and tried to pull her into him.

She resisted. Looking down at their joined hands, she took a deep breath.

"Look, Logan, this is a waste of time," she pointed out, her tone emotionless and even. "I've got places to be and I'm sure you've got stepmothers to do. Why don't we just call it a day?"

His grip tightened fractionally on her hand. "No, I'm not leaving," he spoke slowly and clearly, enunciating every word. "Why are you so angry?" he demanded. "So I got a little over-excited. It's happens."

"If it isn't even worth the effort of keeping it up for me, then why did you bother?" she asked. "You could have just said no when I asked and we could have both been spared this debacle."

"Damn it, Veronica. Why aren't you listening to me?" he demanded. "It's not that I don't care, it's because I care too much. I'll do anything you want me to, _anything_. I fuck up around you because you push me over my limits. I can't think or control my impulses when I'm around you. I watch your mouth when you talk and I can feel you kissing me. I watch your body when you move and remember you wrapped around me. You laugh and smile at somebody else and I'm ready to tear my hair out. You laugh and smile _at me_ and I'm ready to come on the spot."

He stopped because he had run out of oxygen. He took a deep breath and waited for her to respond. She tugged on her hand and he let go. He watched with sinking heart as she crossed to the far side of the room. She didn't believe him. Now what was he supposed to do?

"So what are you willing to do for me, Logan?" she challenged.

Logan stared at her in confusion. This was not what he expected her to say. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you say that I'm special and that you'll do anything for me," she pointed out. "So, what does that mean? What are you willing to do for me?"

She'd walked to the far side of the room, which wasn't far in the small bedroom, and stared back at him defiantly. His heart rate sped up. She wasn't verbally lashing him and she didn't appear to still wanted him to leave. Okay, he could work with this.

"Whatever you want," he assured.

She studied him with that little head tilt that never failed to excite him. Of course, pretty much everything she did excited him. She was Veronica Mars, after all; tiny, delicate and amazingly powerful.

"So, if I told you to get down on your knees and crawl to me, you would?" she asked.

He stiffened. "Why do you want me to do that?"

"To see if you will," she answered simply.

"I was on my knees in front of you yesterday," he reminded her. "You didn't like it. You don't like it when I go down on you."

"But this time you'll do it exactly the way I want it, right?" she prompted. "If I mean so much to you, you won't give me attitude about how you don't need direction and know the right way to do everything?"

"I'd have done it exactly the way you wanted it yesterday, if you told me then," he insisted.

"So you'll do it?" she prompted. "You'll get down on your hands and knees and crawl to me?"

He stared at her. She looked back at him, unblinking. Would he get down on his hands and knees for her? Would it be a humiliation to do that in this room, where the scent of sweat and unsatisfied passion wafted around them? Would it make him less in her eyes if she could have that kind of control over him?

Was that loss of control worth the prize of having Veronica?

Logan swayed for a second then dropped to one knee. It was surprisingly easy to do. He, who had never backed down before, not to Aaron, the PCHers or to anyone else; who had paid for his pride with broken bones and blood, was willing to humble himself to this tiny slip of a girl.

Veronica's eyes widened. "Logan, no," she cried out. "You just banged that knee."

She hurried to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, trying to tug him to his feet. He caught her around the waist and hugged her tightly, the relief making him so light-headed that he needed to hold her for his own balance. He had already forgotten about the pain in his knee. It wasn't important. The pain twisting his heart was all-encompassing.

But the vice grip was easing with each second she held him. She wasn't trying to humiliate him. She was still testing him, trying to find the boundaries of his devotion to her. She already knew the titanium-reinforced strength of his backbone, the speed and cruelty of his ability to inflict revenge, and the depths of his misguided pride.

But he hadn't given her enough of his tenderness for her to gauge his ability to love her.

"Logan, get up," she insisted, still tugging futilely at his shoulders.

"My knee doesn't hurt, baby," he reassured her.

But he straightened up anyway, still keeping her in his arms. She looked frazzled and anxious, her hair tumbling haphazardly around her face, her eyes wide and worried, her swollen lower lip caught between her teeth. She was absolutely the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

"The best feeling in the world is when I have you in my arms. I can't believe it when you're with me. I can't stop looking at you," he admitted raggedly. "I don't know how you can close your eyes when we make love. I can't close mine because there's nothing I'd rather see than you."

She looked shocked and he was disgusted with himself. It only took seconds to give her the words but he had never taken the time. If he had complimented her during the summer and reassured her of her importance in his life before everything had gone to hell, would they have even broken up? It was scary to think that he had endured the months without her just because he had been too self-absorbed to give her the words and the reassurance she needed – and deserved.

He was so busy with his self-recriminations that he didn't hear what she said. But he saw her turn her head away. He ducked his head to look into her eyes, still holding her firmly in his arms.

"What? What did you say?" he questioned.

She hesitated for a moment then looked up at him defiantly. "I said 'I prefer who I see when my eyes are closed'," she repeated.

He could feel the blood drain from his face.

"But-but you said you saw me when…when you closed your eyes," he stuttered.

He had been pleasing her when she had said that. She had been on the edge of her first orgasm with him and she had wanted it badly. She wouldn't have lied to him then.

She tilted her chin and looked him in the eyes. "I saw a guy who doesn't exist anymore," she clarified. She looked away again. "Maybe he never really did exist. Maybe I just saw what I wanted to see."

He stared at her blankly before he finally understood. "Veronica, I can't go back to who I was before. Too much shit has happened in my life," he pointed out quietly. "I want to be with you, more than anything, but I can't change who I am or the life that I have."

She chewed on her lower lip and tried to push out of his arms. He refused release her. His hold wasn't tight – he would never hurt her – but it was inflexible.

"No, I'm not letting go again," he vowed. "Just tell me."

She remained silent and bit down brutally into her lower lip.

"Don't do that," he reproved. "You'll bleed."

If she noticed that he was repeating her admonishment from earlier, she didn't acknowledge it. He kept one hand firmly on her lower back and brought the other up to her face. She released her lower lip when he brushed his thumb against it, allowing him to free it from the prison of her sharp teeth.

"What is it?" he demanded, sweeping his thumb across her lower lip and along her cheekbone. "Don't keep things from me, Veronica. Please."

"I miss him," she admitted quietly.

He closed his eyes against the pain. "I can't be that person, Veronica. At least, not now. Maybe in the future, when I'm not a target and my old man's really out of my life, maybe then I can be that guy again. It's not that I don't want to," he clarified hurriedly. "It's because I _can't_."

Timidly, he put his hand on her shoulder. She didn't shrug it off, which he took as encouragement

"Stay with me," he pleaded. "Remind me what it was like. Take me back with you." His voice cracked on the last plea.

She looked up at him uncertainly. But she was looking at him, _really_ looking at him, as though seeing who he was now. All the tough times, the pain and the betrayals had scarred him. She may not like the scar tissue but it was a part of him. She would have to accept it to accept him.

Finally, she shook her head. "I can't do this, Logan,"

His heart clutched. "Yes, you can," he encouraged. "We can do this together." He leaned in and pressed his forehead against hers.

If their situations were reversed and she was the wrong one, would he be forgiving? If she was desperate to be with him and willing to do anything to be with him, would he be as understanding? Would he give her chance after chance to prove herself to him?

He already had. She had doubted him about the drugs and the cameras and he had forgiven her. She had turned him in to the cops and he had gone to her to explain his actions. The PCHers went after him because he'd been a suspect in Lilly's murder. After the attack, he had gone to her, bruised and bloody, and taken her back again.

He had taken her back every time. Now it was her turn to do the same for him. Would she?

She was silent as she looked into his eyes, silent so long that it scared him. The fading throb in his knee was echoed in his pulse. His heart was pounding so loudly that he was sure she could hear it, too. Finally she opened her mouth to respond but her cell phone chirped, shattering their intimacy.

Veronica started and pulled away. She bent down for her messenger bag and scrambled inside it for her cell phone. Logan crossed to her side.

"Don't answer it," he urged. "We have to talk."

"It's Wallace. I have to talk to him." She pushed him back and answered the call. "Hello?"

Logically, Logan understood that she wasn't actually pushing him away but it felt like it. It bothered him how easily she tuned him out the instant she began talking to her best friend. But he was here, damn it. He wasn't going away.

And neither was his erection, apparently. His cock was throbbing and his jeans were no longer loose and comfortable. It didn't help that he was watching her move around, knowing she was naked under the robe that gave him tantalizing glimpse of the curves of her breasts and lushly rounded thighs. He tugged at his jeans, trying to ease the pressure.

"Are you sure?" Veronica asked urgently into the phone.

She had her back to him and didn't see his discomfort. She listened intently to her cell phone for a while. Logan moved closer, trying to hear what Wallace was saying. Veronica went over to her desk. She tucked her phone into the crook of her neck and reached for her camera.

"No, it's okay," she reassured into the phone. She put the camera down. "No, it's not a problem. I'll take care of it tonight."

Logan came up to her side. She narrowed her eyes at him and put her finger to her lips. Logan's mouth flattened into a thin line. She didn't want Wallace to know he was here. That's right, they were supposed to be a secret and Logan wasn't supposed to be a part of her life. It took effort, but he resisted the urge to take the phone from her and _announce_ to Wallace that they were together.

Veronica seemed to sense the conflict in him and prudently took her cell phone in her hand. She stepped away from him and glared warningly.

"I'm getting ready now," she said into the phone but kept her gaze fixed on Logan.

At least she was aware of him. Logan hated how she could shut him out for her father or her friends or everybody else. He was aware of her every second he was with her, and even when he wasn't. How was she able to ignore him all the time?

For every little bit she gave him, she kept an equal amount back. But Veronica had reasons to keep up her barriers. She hadn't forgotten his vicious taunts from last night or those that came before. No matter how soft or warm she was in his arms, she still felt the need to keep a barrier against him.

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow." She finished her conversation with Wallace and shut off her phone. She looked up at Logan. "I have to get ready now," she informed him.

"Ready for what?" Logan demanded. "We have to talk."

"I don't have time. I'm going out tonight," she reminded him.

He stared at her blankly. She was still planning out going out? She was going to leave him?

"With who?" he demanded.

Her eyes narrowed. "That's none of your business," she replied coldly.

None of his business? How the fuck could it not be his business? She was leaving him, wasn't she? Their relationship was hanging by a thread and she was leaving him to go have dinner like there was nothing wrong? He opened his mouth to retort angrily but his until-now-silent voice of reason suddenly spoke up.

_Shut the fuck up, moron! _

What was he going to gain by antagonizing her? She was going to do what she wanted to do. All he could do was piss her off by demanding details. Details she wasn't going to give him, he recognized bitterly. Either she couldn't or wouldn't trust him with her secrets. He was honest enough to admit that he hadn't given her much reason to.

So maybe she would soften once he showed her that _he_ trusted _her_. Demanding to know where she was going and who she was going to be with wasn't going to further his cause, but being accepting and supportive might.

He took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay," he forced himself to say. "Have a good time."

He couldn't decipher all the emotions that passed across her face, but he did read surprise and wariness.

He nodded and tried to smile. It was harder to do than he thought it would be.

"Umm, what about you?" she asked, looking down at the strained fly of his jeans again.

He grinned wryly. "I'll take care of it."

Her expression hardened. "You or Kendall?" she snarled harshly.

It took effort not to snarl back at her but he kept his tone mild. "I'm not a cheater, Veronica," he reminded her. "As long as you want me, I'm only yours."

She stared at him for a long time before she looked down again. "I can take care of it before you go," she mumbled.

He was dumbfounded for a few seconds, not sure he had heard her correctly. "What did you say?" he finally asked, his voice pitched dangerously low.

Her face flushed a dull red and she gestured to his bulging fly with a graceless jerk of her hand. "I said I can take care of it," she repeated in a clearer voice.

He stiffened. His jaw firmed and his eyes narrowed warningly. Was she offering what he thought she was offering?

She was still looking at his fly and shrugged awkwardly. "I-I'm not sure what you prefer," she stammered. "A-a hand job or a blow job…" She trailed off once she looked up and saw the expression on his face.

Logan could feel the trickles of icy dread slide down his spine. _Take care of it_. She wanted to take care of him like this was just sex, like there was no underlying love or connection between them.

"Don't ever make an offer like that to me again," he hissed. His voice shook with the effort to keep it even. "You don't have to take care of me. I'm not a _charity case_."

Warning bells went off in his brain. Too late, he realized what he had just said. He was trying to tell her that they were more than just the physical copulation. But he knew she was going to take it as an insult, another slur against her sexual ability.

"While I am?" she demanded harshly. The color drained from her face while her chin lifted defiantly. It was the same determined tilt that she adopted every time she fought an enemy.

"No, baby, I didn't mean it like that," he assured her hurriedly.

He wasn't the enemy anymore. They were both so volatile and too quick to take offense, especially from each other. She hadn't been trying to insult him, anymore than he had been trying to insult her. But their relationship was too rocky, too uncertain, for either of them to take the other at face value.

"If you don't want it from me, just say it," she ordered harshly.

He was across the room in an instant. In a lightning-fast move, he grabbed her wrist. Before she could object, he pressed her hand against his erection.

"Does that feel like I don't want it from you?" he demanded. "I'm so hard for you that I can get off just by looking at you."

She tried to tug her hand away. "Then why did you say no?"

He held her hand against his rapidly thickening penis. "Because I love you with more than my cock," he reminded her. "We're not just sex, Veronica."

She tugged on her hand again and this time he let go. His cock jerked painfully at the loss but he ignored it. He had more important things to worry about.

She stepped back from him warily. "Our deal was for sex," she reminded him.

"Our deal is to be together," he insisted. "Making love is a part of it, but not all of it. If you want to go out to dinner or a movie, I'm up for that, too."

She glanced down at his straining fly. "Right," she said, coating the single word with heavy sarcasm.

He shifted against the aching bulge and felt the hot flush of embarrassment in his cheeks. But he wasn't ashamed of his body's reaction. It was normally and healthy to be aroused by his lover.

"I'm not saying I don't want to make love," he admitted. "I'm saying that I want more than that."

"We don't have more than that," she insisted. Her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. "We're just sex."

She sounded sad, almost defeated, as though she really believed what she was saying. He stared at her blankly. They had shared the loss of their mothers; they had held on to each other during their summer in hell; she had finally talked to him about the horror of Shelly's party and now she thought they had nothing together but sex?

"That's not true," he insisted "Last night we connected."

"That didn't last very long, did it?" she reminded him bitterly.

She was hurt but she stayed within arm's reach, something she had never done before. Normally, she was across the room, if not already running, when they disagreed. Was he finally getting through to her? Was she, unconsciously at least, finally starting to trust him a little? Was she staying close because she wanted him to convince her?

"That won't happen again," he promised. "I'm sorry about last night. I reacted badly but I won't ever do that again. I understand where we are now."

"That makes one of us," she responded wryly.

"We connected, Veronica" he reassured her. "And it's not because of the sex. We connected because we talked and we started telling each other the truth. The sex, it just built a bridge, made it easier to talk. It's not all we have together. It's what makes what we do have, better."

"So you're saying everything is going to be peachy-keen between us even if I let you walk out with that hard-on?" she asked, clearly skeptical.

"Yes," he answered immediately. "Why do you keep thinking I can only love parts of you? I know you, Veronica. I know the good and the bad, the girl who used to help me with my homework and the girl who put a bong in my locker. Just like you know the good and bad in me."

She snorted. "You mean the boy who was always my lab partner because he knew how much I hated dissecting things and the boy who busted my headlights?"

"Yeah, just like that." He stepped closer and hesitantly pressed his forehead to hers. "I love everything about you, Veronica," he insisted softly.

She was quiet for a very long time but he didn't push her. He had to give her time and space to make the right decision. That meant not pushing her to move any faster than she wanted to, even when he had to curl his hands into fists to keep from snatching her up and laying her flat out on the bed.

"You should leave now, Logan," she decided. "I still have to shower and get dressed."

"When do I get to see you again?" he asked anxiously.

She bit her bottom lip. "Tomorrow?" she suggested.

"Yes," he agreed immediately. "How about we meet for breakfast?"

"Breakfast? Are you sure you'll be up that early after Dick's party?" she questioned.

"I'm not going to Dick's party," he denied.

She raised her eyebrow skeptically. "You're going to stay home and bake cookies?"

He shrugged lightly. "Sure, why not? It'll give me something to do while I wait for your call."

Her mouth curled and she didn't look at him, clearly not believing him. His heart plummeted. He hadn't gained an inch of Veronica's trust.

"Have fun tonight," she said quietly as she brushed past him, going into the bathroom.

He opened his mouth to insist that he was going to be home but she was already shutting the bathroom door behind her. Grinding his teeth, he sat down gingerly on the rumpled bed. If nothing else, her lack of trust was a good dose of reality. His cock was already starting to become discouraged. Yeah, it was almost better than a cold shower.

At least he didn't have to catch pneumonia from discouragement.

He pulled on his socks and shoes and looked around for his shirt. It was easy to find since Veronica was so neat and orderly. It was the only thing crumpled on her floor. He pulled the shirt over his head as he stepped out into the hallway.

At least he now understood why she had been so devastated by what he had said about Kendall last night. It was more than that Veronica had been hurt by the slurs. It was the combination of his ugly words and her internal fears blended together that did the most damage. It was like mixing bleach and ammonia, both harsh chemicals on their own but potentially deadly when combined.

When he had taunted her last night, he had shot straight into her badly savaged sexual esteem. Then it had been amplified by her fear that sex was the only thing that she could give him, that would provide a reason for him to stay with her. They both knew that their relationship had no firm foundation other than their intense attraction. So if Logan thought she wasn't any good at sex then…

His mind skittered away from that thought and the throb in his cock stopped abruptly. She was what he wanted sexually but she didn't know that. He hadn't given her enough support or encouragement for her to understand that. That shit about Kendall came from that damaged little boy who attacked before he was attacked. Consciously he understood that Veronica wasn't the enemy but he had still responded instinctively – and badly – to her loss. And he had struck where it had hurt her the most.

Fuck.

He turned to stare at her bedroom door. He actually had to put his hands on the doorframe to keep from going back into her bedroom. The urge to grab her, wrap her up in cotton batting and take her someplace where she would never be hurt again was almost overwhelming. So now what was he supposed to do? How could he convince her that they were more than sex? How would he prove to her that they could build a relationship based on communication and trust when she wasn't willing to even acknowledge him in public?

A warm, solid shape bumped into him, dragging him out of his disturbing thoughts. He looked down at Backup, who was nudging his head against Logan's leg.

"Hey, buddy." Logan crouched down to stroke the pit bull's short, wiry hair. "Are you going to miss me?"

Backup whined in response and flopped onto the floor. He rolled over onto his back and invited Logan to rub his tummy. Logan sighed and complied. Too bad it wasn't this easy with Veronica. A few cuddles and a tummy-rub and Backup was all his.

But then Logan had never harassed or humiliated the pit bull to tears.

He sighed again and straightened up. He could hear the shower running and imagined Veronica under the warm spray. He fantasized about slipping into the shower and being welcomed with open arms. But, knowing Veronica, she probably showered with those steel-toed boots on and would kick him in the balls if he tried.

Backup rolled over and butted against Logan's leg again. Logan gave the pit bull an affectionate head-rub and Backup nestled closer.

"Poor guy," Logan said as he bent down to scratch behind the dog's ears. "You're going be stuck here all by yourself while Veronica's out whooping it up with her friends. Don't feel bad. She's doing it to me, too."

Backup barked and licked Logan's face, clearly commiserating with his fellow Veronica-lover. Logan grinned. It was hard not to be cheered up by the pit bull's presence and unconditional affection.

Backup barked again and Logan had an idea. He went over to the peg rack beside the door and grabbed the dog's leash. Backup barked excitedly and rushed to Logan's side. He brushed past Logan and began sniffing the door, whining loudly.

"Just a minute, boy," Logan assured him as he rubbed the dog's head. Logan grabbed the sticky pad and pen by the phone and scrawled a note for Veronica.

_I've got Backup. Meet me at Java the Hut at 9:00 tomorrow if you want him back. Love, Logan._

That should reassure her that he was going to meet her, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and _sober_ tomorrow morning. Well, he'd be bright-eyed and Backup would be bushy-tailed. He looked at the pit bull's short, stubby tail waving madly as the dog scratched at the door.

Okay, at least they'd both be sober.

And neither one of them would have to be alone for the night as they waited for Veronica to return to them. Maybe she would come home sooner knowing they were both waiting for her. Logan slapped the note on the front door then grabbed Backup's leash.

He opened the front door and Backup nearly pulled his arm out of its socket as the pit bull lunged into the fresh air. Logan grabbed the leash with both hands and let the dog lead him into the parking lot. Backup went over to Veronica's car and waited expectantly beside the passenger door.

"We're taking my car, bud." Logan pulled out his key ring and beeped the automatic locks on the X-Terra. He opened the back door and Backup scrambled up into the backseat. Logan unsnapped the leash before carefully closing the back door.

He got behind the wheel and dropped the leash onto the floor of the passenger seat. He checked to make sure the child-proof settings were engaged before he pulled out of the lot. So, what were they going to do to keep from going stir-crazy while Veronica was "out"?

He thought briefly about making an appearance Dick's party but rejected the idea immediately. It would be just his luck for Veronica to call him at the exact moment one of his dumb-ass friends was screaming drunken obscenities or some bimbo was coming on to him. Veronica's trust in him was never strong but now it was held by a single, gossamer thread.

Backup pushed his head between the seats and licked Logan's ear, reminding him that he had a shadow for the evening. Nope, no way they could stop by Dick's party. The pit bull was hardly unobtrusive. As soon as people saw Backup, they would know that Logan and Veronica were back together or, at least, that Logan was actively back in Veronica's life.

Veronica wasn't ready for them to go public yet.

He pulled out his cell phone and scrolled through the numbers. If he couldn't be with Veronica now, he would do what he could to make her happy when she did come to him. His call connected as he pulled into the afternoon traffic.

"Barry, I need a favor," Logan announced.

"Who is this?" Barry demanded.

"Logan Echolls, your favorite client," Logan reminded. "You know, the guy whose old man is in jail for murder and whose estate you co-manage?"

"Your father is awaiting trial, Logan," The lawyer responded crisply. "At this time, he's an innocent man. You know the drill."

"Yeah, right." Logan didn't bother to try to hide the disgust in his voice. "Innocent until we prove him guilty and all that crap. But I didn't call to talk about that."

"What are you calling about then?" Barry questioned.

"I need you set me up with a cleaning service and some company that can fix broken furniture," Logan requested.

"What happened to your existing service and what happened to your furniture?" Barry asked.

"I had to let the staff go because they were getting paid by the tabloids to give them dirt on me." Logan explained.

"And the furniture?" Barry prompted.

"I had a party and things got out of hand," Logan responded easily. "Oh, I'll probably need somebody to fix the walls. I don't think they're going be able get the wine or dents out."

"Broken furniture? Wine and dents in the walls?" Barry gasped. "Logan, what kind of party was this?"

"Just a small, tasteful bash to celebrate life and its brevity," Logan clarified.

"What about the artwork in the house?" Barry's censure came through loud and clear over the phone.

"Don't worry," Logan assured disgustedly. "All the Aaron Echolls memorabilia is safe and accounted for. I'm going to wait until he's on death row before I start that bonfire."

"Logan." Barry's voice was low and warning. "You've barely got out of jail yourself. Don't go looking for trouble."

"Barry, you know I never go looking for trouble," Logan informed him loftily. "Trouble comes looking for me."

"I'll make some phone calls," the attorney promised. "I don't think I can get anybody until Monday at the earliest."

"That's fine," Logan agreed. "Have them sign a confidentiality agreement first. And run a background check on them. Make sure they haven't had any 'unexplainable' income recently."

"Then I'm going to have to hire a San Diego company," Barry warned, "Nobody locally is going to work for you under those conditions."

"Nobody locally is going to work for me, period," Logan shot back. "As far as they're all concerned, I went up to their poor, defenseless local boy and knifed him in cold blood."

"Logan, you're not supposed to talk about that," Barry reminded him testily. "It's a closed matter but the DA can open it up again at any time."

"Yeah, yeah," Logan responded. He suddenly felt weary. He knew the drill. "Just get somebody out to fix up the place and I'll keep my mouth shut."

"Good luck with that." Barry disconnected the call before Logan could retort.

Great. Nobody had any confidence in him. So what else was new?

Logan pulled up to his gate and pressed the gate control button attached to his sun visor. The gate didn't open.

"Fucking great," he muttered.

Backup barked agitatedly and scrambled around in the backseat, clearly uncomfortable. Sixty pound pit bulls did not like being confined in small spaces.

"Just a minute, boy," Logan reassured and rubbed the dog's head comfortingly.

He stabbed his finger impatiently on the switch to roll down his window. Leaning out, he keyed his code into the security panel mounted by the entrance. The entry indicator remained red. What the hell? Then he remembered that Veronica had used the system override to turn off the system last night. He had been so freaked out about her yesterday that he had totally forgotten about resetting the system.

The security company must have re-armed it. At least the security system was worth what they paid for it. All he had to do was enter in the override code and then reset the system when he got back in the house.

Shit. He didn't remember the default code. Veronica took care of all those details while they had still been together. Backup stuck his head between the seats and whined loudly. Logan absently rubbed the pit bull's head as he scrolled through his cell phone directory and dialed the security company.

"Arbor House," a polite, cheerful voice answered. "We take care of all your home and lawn maintenance needs. How may I direct your call?"

He looked up into the security monitor mounted at the top of the charged-electricity fence. "Yeah, this is Logan Echolls. My security system reset and I forgot the default code."

"I'm sorry, sir," the woman responded, still polite and cheerful. "You have the wrong number. We are a home and lawn maintenance service."

That's right. This was the first level of security. He was supposed to give her the code line.

"Uh, the blue spruce at the back of my property is shedding."

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir." The voice was still polite, but the bland cheerfulness was gone. "Are there any other issues you would like to report?"

Now the operator wanted the second code line. Veronica had drilled the codes into his brain by making him recite them then kissing him breathless as his reward. He used to tease her that he remembered the codes, but forgot everything else when she kissed him. That had always led to her giggling and extended make-out sessions.

He knew those damn codes by heart.

"Yes, the roses on the east lawn are drooping." Logan supplied.

There was a momentary pause before the receptionist came back on the line. "Passwords, voice and visual identity confirmed," the woman reported crisply. "We're sending a crew to your address right now, Mr. Echolls."

"I don't need a crew," Logan protested. "I just need the code."

"It's our policy to send out a crew if there is any chance that your security has been compromised. Your safety is our number one priority," she chirped cheerfully. "They will be on site in less than five minutes. For your own security, please remain in your vehicle until they arrive."

"Great," Logan sighed again. Backup whined, sharing his pain. Logan rolled up the window then leaned into the backseat. Backup barked sharply and butted his head against Logan's shoulder.

"Five more minutes, buddy," Logan assured him. "Then you'll have this whole house to stretch out."

Backup barked excitedly, already sniffing the intoxicating scent of freedom. During the summer, he had roamed through the big house and the extensive yard, exploring and running free. He had even claimed his own favorite spot, flopping down by the living room fireplace to take long afternoon naps.

Logan grinned at the excited pit bull and looked around the elegant neighborhood. The winter sun was starting to wane, casting long shadows over the exclusive homes and manicured lawns. Logan hated winter, the short days and the long, lonely nights. Nights without Veronica, nights when he had nothing to do but think about his life, nights when he turned on every light in the house to keep the shadows from swallowing him up.

Backup butted his head against Logan's shoulder, reminding him that, for this night at least, he wasn't alone. Logan smiled as the pit bull flopped down on the backseat with a noisy whine. Nope, at least tonight, he'd have a companion that Veronica wouldn't object to.

Logan's stomach growled. When was the last time he had eaten? He thought of the unwanted white carton at lunch and the Chinese food rotting out by his pool. His mind skittered away from the memory of Veronica, tears spilling out of her betrayal-darkened blue eyes, as she shoved the bags at him and fled.

Food. That was something he could do. He took out his cell phone and searched for the nearest grocery store.

"Hi, is this the Albertson's on First Street in Neptune?"

He ordered the basics and everything he remembered Veronica liked, as well as supplies for Backup. With any luck, he was going to have weekend guests. A good host made sure his guests were happy and well-fed. Logan was a decent cook. Veronica and Lianne had taught him the basics years earlier when he used to hang out at the Mars's cozy house at the bottom of the hill.

Lianne had never questioned why Logan preferred to spend his evenings helping them make dinner in their little kitchen instead of enjoying the comforts and staff-prepared meals of his own. She hadn't even questioned why Logan would bother to learn something as mundane and unnecessary as cooking. He had been grateful for that. Lianne had simply smiled, sipped her water and directed as Veronica and Logan had prepared meals while she cheerfully sang along to 'mood music'.

It had been so easy to forget the good in Lianne; just as it was sometimes easy to forget the good in his own mother. Lynn had been a very good cook. But the wife of Aaron Echolls did not do menial work. So Lynn had turned her kitchen over to strangers and only ventured in for 'special' occasions.

Like when she'd made cupcakes to celebrate his return after Logan's first day of school, or the pancakes she and Logan would make, bleary-eyed and hung over, to soak up the alcohol on those mornings when Aaron had been away on location shootings. Or the grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup that were Logan's comfort food after a session in Aaron's study.

A nondescript van pulled up behind him, shaking Logan out of his reverie. He shuddered and pulled himself together. The memories, even the good ones, weren't worth remembering.

There was a sharp rap on his window and Logan rolled it down. Backup scrambled up and thrust his head between the seats, barking loudly. Logan took a firm grip on the pit bull's collar. Backup, though normally friendly and easygoing, was an ex-police dog. He would be dangerous if he thought the man was a threat.

But the man who leaned into the window didn't even blink at being faced by the heavily muscled, sharp-toothed former police dog. He stared calmly at Backup then looked to Logan.

"Hello, Mr. Echolls." The man was dressed in a crisp white uniform and painter's hat, as nondescript as his van. But his voice and his eyes were sharp and cold.

Logan nodded, carefully studying the man. Even draped in the loose uniform there was no disguising the rippling muscles or ramrod straight posture. Maybe this guy could hold off Backup if the pit bull tried to attack him. Logan tightened his grip on the dog's collar, not willing to take that chance.

The man continued, "I'm Rocket, Mr. Echolls. I'm the head of security for this division."

"I'm Logan." Logan grinned without humor. "Mr. Echolls is in the Los Angeles County Jail, where he'll have a long and tortured stay, I hope."

If Rocket was shocked by Logan's attitude, he didn't show it. He simply nodded and the gates opened.

"We've run full diagnostics and engaged the heat and motion sensors," Rocket explained. "There have been no breeches. The system alerted us when it was disengaged last night. We began monitoring at that time. The only vehicle or person to enter the property since the system was deactivated was you. We reset the alarm this morning when the house was unoccupied. The property has remained fully secure."

"Okay." Logan tried to keep the impatience out of his tone. "That's great. Can I get in my house now?"

"Of course," Rocket responded smoothly. "You have five minutes to reset the security code or the system will lock again."

"Got it." Logan gave him a smart salute and rolled up the window. He released Backup's collar and shifted the engine into drive.

He pulled up to the house and parked in the front courtyard. Backup barked eagerly and sniffed at the door. Logan opened the back door and took a firm grip on Backup's collar before the pit bull could run off to play. The security panel by the front door was still blinking green so Logan knew he only had a few minutes to reset the security. Otherwise they'd have to sit through another visit from Rocket. Logan was willing to bet that the security guy was ex-military.

His grandfather, his mother's father, had been a soldier in the Korean War. Logan remembered visiting him as a little kid. The old man had been precise and disciplined. If he told Logan to be down in five minutes for dinner, then Logan only had five minutes. But his grandfather had also been fair. If Logan was late for dinner, he had to eat alone in the kitchen.

Aaron would have let him go hungry – after giving Logan a taste of his belt.

Logan pushed the unhappy memories aside and tugged Backup to the door. He turned the knob and entered. He left Backup to sniff around the front room as he went to reset the system. It took him only seconds to navigate through the maze of destruction in the front room and walk down the hall to the security room.

The computer was blinking at the login screen. He had barely reset it and finished a system scan before another van appeared at the gate, this one bearing the logo of the local grocery chain. Logan buzzed them in and went out to greet the delivery guys.

Backup barked excitedly and rushed for the door, avoiding torn cushions, overturned bottles and marbled rubble with instinctive grace. Logan caught him by his collar and pulled him away from the front room.

"Sorry, big fella," he apologized as he tugged the pit bull along. "You can't be out here. You're going to scare the shit out of those kids."

Backup whined in protest and tugged Logan back towards the door. They tussled for a moment, with the pit bull winning. Logan held on, his arms straining with the effort. Damn, the dog was strong. How did Veronica manage to control him? Then Logan remembered.

"Dog biscuits," he called out.

Backup immediately stopped fighting.

"Yeah, dog biscuits," Logan repeated. "Be a good boy for a couple of minutes and there's a box of dog biscuits in it for you." He sighed with relief and pulled Backup towards the security room.

He opened the door and the pit bull went through without further complaint, already sniffing out the new territory. Logan shook his head as he shut the door and walked back into the front hall. Now why the hell had he taken on the headache of babysitting the pit bull all night? Oh, right, he remembered.

Veronica.

He opened the door to two Mexican teenagers he had never met before. At least, Logan thought he didn't know them. They were weighed down with boxes of food and glared at him as if they wanted him to drop dead on the spot. But that was nothing new. Most people from the 02 zip code wanted him dead, or at least sharing a cell with his old man.

The boys stopped in shock at the remains of the front room. Logan ignored their stunned expressions and went down the winding path he'd cleared to the kitchen.

"Watch where you're walking, boys," he called out. "Follow the path and you'll be fine. Stray off the beaten path and you take your lives in your own hands."

He leaned indolently against a pillar and watched with a half-smirk as they transported bag after bag of groceries to his kitchen. He stared at them blandly as they looked pointedly at the overturned furniture, damaged walls and ruined artwork.

"You guys missed one hell of a party," Logan informed them. His tone was biting and full of venomous cheer. "I don't know why you didn't join us. Everybody else came. I had all my friends here, including my buddies, the PCHers. And then the cops showed up." He straightened away from the pillar. "Why do you think the cops came around, huh? Did they think that we couldn't all just get along?" He put his arms out wide and spun around to emphasis his point.

The boys remained silent as they brought in the last of the bags. They had just finished when Backup's barking boomed around them. The panic room was in the center of the house and, when not sealed, had perfect acoustics. It sounded like a pack of wild dogs were caged in the wine cellar.

The boys looked terrified.

Logan hid his grin as he pushed away from the pillar and led them to the front door. "Well, I really enjoyed our time together," he said with false cheerfulness, pretending not to hear the crescendo of barking raining down on them. "Thanks for coming. Your tip will be on the bill, right?"

The boys practically fell over each other in their rush to get out of the house. Logan was willing to bet that it would be one hell of a tip. They'd probably tack on hazard pay, too. He watched as they exited out the gate then went back into the security room, released Backup and dutifully reset the system. This security thing was a pain in the ass.

But getting the crap beaten out him – or a knife in the gut – would probably be worse.

It didn't take Logan long to put the food away, even with Backup underfoot, trying to investigate each item as Logan pulled it out of the bags. Backup worked himself into a barking frenzy when he saw Logan pull out a box of dog treats.

"Okay, okay," Logan acknowledged as he ripped open the box.

He upturned the entire box of biscuits onto the kitchen floor. Backup deserved it after scaring the shit out of those snot-nosed little brats. He grinned as he watched the pit bull attack the treats.

"Anybody watching you chow down would think we starve you," Logan scolded affectionately. "I'm the one who hasn't eaten in two days."

That reminded him of the Chinese food rotting by the pool.

His grin died as Logan went out to the sliding doors and flipped on the pool lights. The underwater lights cast a glare on the glass and he stopped with his hand half-way to the latch. He stared out at the pool but only saw Veronica as she had been last night, with her tear-streaked face and heartbroken expression.

_Damn it._ He had been so close but, just like always, he had to screw it up. She had come to him and she had given him another chance. All he had to do was show a little faith in her. So what if she hadn't come back last night? He'd told her that she was in control. That meant that she could come and go as she pleased and she'd still be _safe_. In fact, he had fucking promised her that she would be safe with him.

Then why the hell had he snapped the first second she tested him? Why hadn't it occurred to him to look for a note? Even better, he could have called her to wish her a good night. Reinforce that everything was still good between them. He wouldn't have had her in his arms but he would have talked to her. Then he would have spent today with Veronica instead of being balanced on this tenuous thread that held their relationship together.

She had accepted and accommodated so much shit for him. She had nursed his wounds and cared for his safety and well-being even when she hadn't agreed with his public battles. She had put away the pain and resentment over the year of suffering she had endured after Lilly's death. She had subjected herself to the thinly veiled insults and resentful glares of the 09ers to attend parties with him. And she was still enduring the taunts and ridicule of the students who preferred to believe the ugly rumors rather than see the real Veronica.

Logan has always believed that he was entitled to everything he had. He had paid for it in blood. Just as he had never questioned his place at the top of the 09er social order, he just accepted it as his due. He'd always been the one to do what needed to be done, who protected the hierarchy and weeded out the undesirables. No one had ever objected to his methods because they liked the results.

So it hadn't occurred to him that he needed to behave differently for Veronica. She didn't want the ruthless enforcer, she wanted the loyal friend and sweet make-out buddy. She had fallen for him when he was at his most vulnerable, after his mother's death and after the beating on the bridge. Those were the only times he had been approachable. As soon as he had begun to recover, he had gone back on the offensive, rebuilding his public façade and erecting the walls that protected him.

But those same walls that protected him had inadvertently shut out Veronica. He had embraced revenge instead of his girl and lost her over the summer. He had given in to his fears last night and now held on to her with the most tenuous grip. Why did he keep doing this to himself and to her?

He slammed his hand against the glass in disgust. This wasn't getting him anywhere. They were where they were. Recriminations or wishing for things to be better didn't change a goddamned thing. Hadn't he learned that over the past two years?

Hadn't he learned that over the course of his entire life?

When had wishing and hoping ever gotten him what he wanted? Everything had come at a price. He'd only gotten freedom from Aaron by Lilly's death, his mother had gotten her freedom by giving up her life and he only had Veronica after she'd almost been burned alive and he had the shit beaten out of him by the PCHers.

So now he had to find a way to let her in – and keep her in – without giving up the protection he had so painstakingly built. Could he do that? Could he give Veronica enough of himself to make her happy? Did he even deserve to have her? Maybe he had already fucked up so many times before that nothing good was ever going to come to him again?

Was this the best he was going to get out of life? Sex instead of love? Hurried groping in secret instead of a relaxed, happy relationship? A barb-wired prison instead of a home? A black Am-Ex card instead of birthday cards and love letters? Was this all he had to look forward to?

His cell phone rang, pulling him out of his morose thoughts. His heart sped up before his brain registered the ring-tone. It was Veronica.

He fumbled clumsily in his hurry to pull the phone out of his pocket. "Hello? Veronica?" he gasped.

"Hi. Busy?" she asked.

Yeah, he was busy. Busy missing her, busy depressing himself about the shit that was his life. Nothing important.

"No, we're just hanging out." He was careful to keep his voice calm and even. She didn't need to know what was going on his head.

"I'll come and get Backup after dinner," she promised.

"You could just come and spend the night," he countered.

She didn't respond to that.

He waited a moment then cleared his throat. "Is everything okay?"

"Sure. I just wanted to check on Backup," she explained.

"He's fine," Logan assured. "Rediscovering all the old familiar places. Speaking of which, where are you?"

"I'm at _Mesa Luna_." She answered.

He was taken aback. He hadn't really expected her to tell him where she was. He just wanted to keep the conversation going.

"_Mesa Luna_?" he repeated dumbly.

"Yeah, it's a restaurant downtown," she elaborated. "We're in the financial district."

"I know where it is," he confirmed. "I just didn't know that's where you were."

"We're just about to sit down for dinner," she explained.

"Who are you having dinner with?" he asked anxiously.

She was quiet for a long minute. "No one you'd be interested in," she finally answered

_That _set off the alarms in his head. "You mean Duncan?" he snarled.

"Duncan?" She repeated, sounding confused. "Why would I be with Duncan?"

Logan felt a sense of relief so strong that he sagged against the glass. "I just thought that maybe…" he trailed off uncertainly.

"You thought that maybe I was like you and hopped from one bed partner to another?" she completed harshly.

"No," he denied instantly. "I thought you'd agreed to have dinner with him to talk. I know he wants you back, Veronica."

"Well, I don't want to go back to him," Veronica said flatly. "I already told you that but you refuse to believe me. Why would you? If our roles were reversed, you'd already be screwing Kendall, wouldn't you?" She drew in a harsh breath. "Or are you doing that right now? Sorry to disturb your good time. Just remember to shut the door so my poor impressionable dog doesn't have to see it."

The phone line disconnected abruptly.

"Damn," Logan swore as he pressed his first preset. Even when his brain was engaged, he still managed to put his foot in his mouth.

"Please, please answer," he whispered as he listened to her phone ring.

Then phone rang three times before going into voice mail. She'd pressed the ignore button on her phone. He disconnected and dialed again. This time it went directly into voice mail. She'd turned off her phone. She was shutting him out again.

Logan shoved his phone back in his pocket as he grabbed his keys. No way was he going to let her think he was screwing around on her. If he gave her any time to think about it, she'd start imagining him with Kendall and drop him cold. It had almost broken him the last time Veronica had kicked him out of her life. And now that they were lovers, her ability to cut him to the core was faster and more accurate than ever.

Backup whined and butted his head against Logan's head. He leaned down to ruffle the pit bull's ears. "Sorry, buddy, I can't take you with me. The restaurant won't let you in and I don't want you stuck in the car."

The pit bull whined and went back to his biscuits, turning his back on Logan. Great, now another Mars family member was mad at him. But Backup would be soothed with hugs and a treat. Veronica would need a lot more care and delicate handling.

"Damn it, damn it,' he swore as he navigated the front room and hurried out to his car.

Why the fuck was he always doing this? The second he got anywhere with her, he messed it up. Once again, she had taken the first step and called him. She probably needed reassurance that he wasn't going to drop her because she hadn't 'taken care' of him. And he had responded by accusing her of cheating on him.

But she wasn't with Duncan. That in itself was a huge relief. Logan didn't know how to combat Duncan's whipped-puppy expression or his shared past with Veronica. And she was still so damn _protective _of her first love. Would she ever feel that way about him if they broke up again?

Logan's mind skittered away from that thought. He and Veronica were not going to break up. They also had a shared past. Yes, there had been bad times. He shoved his hand through his hair in agitation. _That _was an understatement. They had been through hell together. Then he had gone on to other wars without her and their relationship had fallen apart.

But they also had good times. He remembered her giggles and her back massages and all those magical times she had perfected her nipple-sucking method. He remembered making out in the school parking lot at lunchtime over the summer. He remembered her kisses distracting him from whatever lame-assed ideas he and Dick had thought of to piss off the PCHers.

He remembered her loving smiles.

The drive downtown took forever in the heavy evening traffic. What if she was already gone before he got there? Where was he supposed to look for her next? It was Friday night and Veronica knew how to hide herself.

No, that wasn't going to happen this time. He had Backup. She had to come back to his place to get her dog. Veronica would never abandon her beloved pet. So maybe he should go back home and wait for her there? And let her spend the rest of the evening talking herself out of giving him another chance? No fucking way. He cursed the traffic again and crept forward as he waited for the light to change to green.

Finally, he pulled up to the restaurant and tossed his keys to the valet. He smoothed down his shirt as he pushed open the door. Should he have showered and changed first? Hell no. He was going to face her with the smell and taste of her still clinging to him. Maybe it would be enough to hold his jackass comments in check for a change.

Logan arranged his features in the most relaxed, blasé expression he could and sauntered into the lobby. He saw Veronica the second he looked over the diners. It was like a there was a beacon shining on her, making her the focus of the room. Or at least, his focus.

He thought she looked like an angel. She was dressed in a pink sweater with a white t-shirt underneath it. She had left her hair loose and it flowed like a silk curtain down her back. She was nodding seriously and she had her head bent close to that of her dinner companion.

She looked up as though sensing him. Her expression went from shock to confusion to annoyance in that short time. But he was sure he also saw relief and pleasure before she masked it. It made him smile.

Or at least he smiled until he saw Veronica's dinner companion. Then he stopped dead in his tracks.

Shit.

All that time he has spent worrying about Duncan sniffing around his girl. It never even occurred to him worry that Veronica might be having dinner with another guy who could possibly sweep her off her feet.

This was a fucking unexpected complication.


	11. Chapter 11

Logan was frozen in the lobby of the restaurant, blood roaring in his ears and his heart pounding double-time. He stood in front of the hostess desk but ignored the pretty college girls as they handed out menus and led patrons to their tables with exaggerated hip-swings and glazed smiles. The raucous laughter from the inebriated bar crowd spilled into the dining area but he tuned it out. None of it was important to him. All he cared about was healing the latest rift between him and Veronica.

She wasn't alone. She was with another guy. Logan had used up his extensive vocabulary of curse words to swear at the traffic keeping him from Veronica, anxious to get to her. But was she anxious to see him? She looked like she didn't have a care in the world. Had she forgotten their argument? Or was she so skilled at turning off her emotions that she had already written off Logan and their relationship?

Logan kept himself intact by standing perfectly still, forcing the harried waiters and busboys to dodge around him as they tried to keep up with the demands of the evening's dinner patrons. His attention was focused on Veronica, seated at a small table in the middle of the restaurant, sharing a cozy meal with her ex-boyfriend.

Veronica looked up at him and their gazes locked. Then, like in all the good clichés, the world fell away and it was just them.

Veronica blinked first. She jerked visibly as she looked away. She smiled apologetically at her companion and pushed back her chair. And, like the boy scout he was, Sheriff's Deputy Leo D'Amato politely rose from his own seat to assist her. Veronica shook her head and Leo obediently sat back down. But his gaze followed Veronica as she crossed to the lobby.

Logan tried not to smirk at the annoyed displeasure in the deputy's expression as Leo tracked Veronica. Doing so would only piss her off. It didn't do Logan any good to be smug that she had left her table and hurried over as soon as she saw him. Just because she was coming to him didn't mean that she wasn't going back to dinner with Leo.

"Logan, what are you doing here?" Veronica caught his arm and tugged him into a decorative alcove, out of the flow – and sight – of hustle and activity.

"I'm looking for you, of course," he replied tensely. "Why else would I be here?"

"What's so important that it couldn't wait until after dinner?" she demanded.

She craned her neck to look at her table over the plants and ferns. She was talking to him but her focus was still on Leo. That frustrated Logan. He had dropped everything to be with her the moment she was distressed and she didn't appreciate it at all. Never mind that he was responsible for her _being_ distressed. He was here to fix his mistake, wasn't he?

"Uh, you hung up on me a little while ago?" he reminded her. "You accused me of having Kendall over, which you know I didn't."

That brought her attention back to him in a hurry. Her head snapped around so quickly that her baby-fine hair brushed along his cheek in an unintentional caress. She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. "Now is not the time to talk about it, Logan."

Her tone was frosty but there was hurt and – _damn it_ – some _doubt_ in her eyes. Logan set his back teeth to keep from grinding them. What the hell did he have to do to prove how much she meant to him? What did she need from him to finally feel secure?

"You know I wouldn't do that, right?" He tried to make his words come out flat and factual but there was a thread of doubt in _his _voice too.

This was so fucked up. They both doubted each other. She doubted him on everything. He doubted her desire to overcome her fears and let him in. The difference was that he wanted to trust her while she only wanted to keep holding him at arm's length. Or maybe it was _him _that was all fucked up. What was wrong with him that he continued to fight for things he couldn't have? Was this his form of self-flagellation? His way of punishing himself for all the mistakes he couldn't seem to stop making? Or was this his shot at redemption? Proof that if Veronica could love and respect him, he could love and respect himself?

He was so focused on his introspection that he missed her reply. She was looking at him with a frown puckering her mouth and furrowing her brows.

"What did you say?" he asked quietly.

She sighed heavily. "I said, 'I know"," she responded. "I know you didn't have Kendall over. I know you're not going to cheat. And I know I was out of line," she admitted.

Logan stared at her. She had just admitted she was wrong. He had rushed over here to apologize to her and she had accepted blame. What did that mean? Was she taking steps to meet him, if not half-way, at least no longer stubbornly holed up in her own corner?

Veronica ducked her head and looked around nervously. Her arms started to creep around her waist as they always did when she was feeling threatened. He caught her hands and tugged her closer.

"Let's go home and talk," he suggested, threading her fingers with his own.

She unwound their fingers and stepped back. "I can't. I have to get back to dinner."

"Why?" he demanded. He tried to keep his voice reasonable and calm. It cracked with the effort. "You'd rather have dinner with Deputy Doofus than clear things up with your lover?"

She blinked at him in startled surprise and her mouth fell open.

His expression hardened. "What?"

She blinked again. "I just don't think of you like that."

"Like what? Your lover?" he clarified. "That's what I am. I'm the guy you make love to. That makes me your lover."

It was a huge step forward in their relationship that they were lovers now. She hadn't trusted him enough during their summer together to take that next step with him. But now she had. Given how much she needed security and to be in control, she couldn't treat them being lovers casually. Veronica wasn't built that way. If he wasn't so important to her – if _they _weren't so important to her – she wouldn't be so upset when he screwed up.

She looked away. "Logan, I don't have time to get into this with you. I'm on a case…" she broke off with a gasp.

He picked up immediately on her sudden tension. "What's wrong?"

He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into the shelter of his body. Tucking her close, he looked around for the threat, adrenaline pouring into his blood stream. She wiggled out of his arms and turned to look back at her table.

"Logan, I need your cell phone," she hissed.

"Cell phone?" he repeated stupidly.

He was still tense and it took him a few seconds to come down from the spike. He was programmed to react first and ask questions later, if at all. Too many instances of selecting whipping belts, ducking shot-out rear windows and Veronica bolting had ingrained the need to hold and protect.

But Veronica wasn't in any danger right now. In fact, she looked pleased with herself, blue eyes glowing with satisfaction. She held out her hand and shook it at him urgently.

"I left my bag at the table," she explained. "I need your phone _right now_."

He took the phone out of his pocket and gave it to her. She crouched down into the foliage and parted the plants. Logan stared at her in confusion.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Taking pictures. I left my camera at the table," she said, shoving aside more of the plants.

Logan looked over at Leo then back at Veronica. She was tiny enough that she was half-hidden as she held the camera phone between a break in the foliage. Logan shook his head in confusion.

"Why are you taking pictures of Leo?" he asked.

"He's helping me with this case," Veronica explained hurriedly as she lined up her shot.

She snapped a couple of shots then looked up. Her smile was positively smug. "That's it, Leo," she coaxed, even though she was too far away from the table for Leo to hear her. "Charm a smile out of her and these pictures will be perfect."

Her?

Logan looked back to the table and finally noticed that there were three place settings. A girl was still at the table with Leo. As though he could really hear Veronica over the distance, Leo leaned closer and grinned widely at their dinner companion. The girl, a pale, pretty redhead smiled timidly and nervously dropping her head. Leo leaned closer and said something to the girl. The girl raised her head and blushed, relaxing visibly.

"Who's the girl?" Logan questioned.

The redhead looked vaguely familiar, like someone he had seen around but never paid attention to. She was attractive in a shy, quiet way. She looked to be about sixteen, still soft and fresh, her cheeks round with the remains of adolescent baby fat. She was probably a student at Neptune High.

"That's Jade, my client," Veronica explained, snapping shot after shot.

Logan shook his head, thoroughly confused. "You're taking pictures of your partner and your client?" he stated dubiously.

She didn't bother to reply, intent on getting her shots.

"Umm, may I help you?" an unfamiliar female voice asked.

Logan turned to look, taking care to shield Veronica with his body. A young woman, only a little older than them, was looking at him – and at Veronica crouched behind him – with a worried expression. The worry morphed into interest as she got a good look at Logan.

"Uh, no, we're fine," Logan assured her with a quick smile.

The young woman smiled back and neatly flipped her smooth, dark hair over her shoulder. Her coffee-colored eyes widened a bit and she batted her lashes flirtatiously. Logan had to give her points. Normally, that baby-doll-eyes look came across as fake and childish, but this girl made it work.

"I'm Kim," she introduced herself. "I'm one of the hostesses here."

"Thanks for checking, Kim, but we're good," he assured her.

Kim tried to peer over his shoulder at Veronica, but Logan shifted to block the hostess's view. He kept a polite smile on his face and tried to look nonchalant even as he felt Veronica move behind him and heard her rifle through the plants.

"What is she doing?" Kim asked, her dark eyes narrowing. "Is there a problem with the plants?"

The hostess craned her neck to try to look past him again and Logan leaned back casually, trying to keep Veronica's bizarre behavior hidden. Apparently he wasn't very successful because Kim's finely arched brows drew together and she looked suspicious.

"Umm, no, she's just really into 'em," Logan improvised. "She likes to see how they grow."

"They're silk," Kim stated, her voice now hard and cold. "They don't grow."

Embarrassment made his face flush red and Logan gritted his teeth to suppress the instinctive desire to destroy the brunette with a harsh putdown. It was his normal reaction when he was off balance or confronted. He suppressed it with effort. Giving into his instincts would only cause trouble. But what was he supposed to do now? Veronica hadn't given him any idea of what was going on before she switched into Nancy Drew mode.

He could hear her clicking away as she continued to take pictures of Leo and her client. Fortunately, Kim couldn't hear the cell phone over the din of the restaurant. He was pretty sure that Veronica would not be happy if Kim decided to make a scene. He needed to keep the hostess distracted so Veronica could finish whatever it was that she was doing.

So Logan did what he did best.

He flirted.

He smiled at Kim and leaned closer to her. It was a calculated risk. Leaning closer meant that he could completely capture Kim's attention but it left Veronica visible to anyone else wandering by. So he needed to get rid of Kim – fast.

Logan reached for the ferns by Kim's side and deliberately stroked a frond. The pointed tip just brushed Kim's shoulder. He ducked his head until he could snare the brunette's gaze and looked deep into her eyes.

"Silk, huh?" he repeated, lowering his voice an octave. He wrapped the tip of the fake frond around his finger then released it. "They're so soft and velvety, I would never have guessed."

Kim blinked rapidly and not the fake baby-doll-eyes look she had given him before. Her eyes were glazed over and she looked dazed. He had her attention, now all he had to do was reel her in. Logan smiled, allowing his lids to droop just a bit, making his eyes look heavy and sleep-softened. The brunette sucked in her breath.

"Is everything okay with your…sister?" Kim asked hopefully.

A grin tugged at the corners of Logan's mouth as he felt Veronica straighten behind him. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking when he heard her indignant hiss.

"She's not my sister," he corrected dryly.

Kim's hopeful expression melted into disappointment. She transferred her cat-like gaze to Veronica, who was now standing beside him. Kim's dark eyes narrowed as she studied the tiny blonde at Logan's side.

"Aww, she's such a little thing," Kim said with mocking sweetness. "You have to be careful with d_elicate_ little girls."

Logan locked his jaw. Kim was clearly insinuating that Veronica was too delicate for vigorous sex and that he was missing out by being with her. Unease prickled down his spine and set off alarm bells in his brain. Kim wasn't the first person to misjudge Veronica because of her tiny stature and porcelain doll exterior. Normally he found it amusing to watch them discover the true Veronica when they cut themselves on her jagged edges. But this wasn't a normal situation or a normal barb.

Veronica's sexual identity had been used as a weapon _against_ her for so long that it wasn't possible for her to be anything but defensive. They were only now starting to heal the bruises from those long-ago battles. Yes, he had been very gentle with her, but it was because they were new lovers. They needed time to adjust to each other's bodies and rhythms. He _cared_ about pleasing Veronica and was willing to devote the time necessary to learn to satisfy her.

Logan raked his hand through his hair, his body swaying back and forth between the two girls, unsure of what to do. With his healing body, court appearances and summer school, he hadn't had a chance to take Veronica out in public and to openly be a couple. He had no idea how she would react to another girl's interest in him.

He turned to look at her, silently pleading with her to understand. He hadn't invited Kim over. Hell, he hadn't even known she existed until she walked over, but would Veronica see that? Veronica was already prickly and unsure of her place in his life without Kim unintentionally attacking her greatest vulnerability. He didn't need another obstacle pushing her further away.

Veronica had never experienced this kind of competition for him before. Logan was by nature focused and single-minded. In the last few months, he had lost his every touchstone: his family or what there was left of it, his best friend, and almost his own life. The only constant had been Veronica and he had held on to her with everything he had.

Or so he thought.

But he lost her anyway.

Now he had her back. No one and nothing was going to take her away from him again, especially not a catty little bitch looking for an easy score. He turned to face Kim with an anticipatory smirk. This was his favorite sport, slicing and dicing opponents with his vicious wit and razor-sharp tongue.

But Veronica deprived him of that pleasure. She stepped in front of him and stared Kim down with a cool glance. Veronica's cheeks were flushed with color and her teeth were bared in a facsimile of a smile that fooled no one. Kim merely raised her eyebrows, apparently not impressed.

Veronica snapped Logan's phone shut and held it up. "I'm finished," she announced.

She kept her gaze locked with Kim's. Moving with deliberate casualness, Veronica plastered herself against Logan and slipped his cell phone into his front jean pocket. Logan gasped softly as the heat from her palm seeped through the thin material and warmed his thigh. He stared at her with open-mouthed shock.

Veronica arched her eyebrow and raised her chin at the hostess. "Thanks for your concern, but we're fine," she purred in a very un-Veronica-like voice.

Logan was transfixed. He had never seen Veronica like this before. She looked like the lioness again, albeit a very tiny one, all golden fur and sharp teeth, ready to take down any threat to her place beside her chosen mate. A palpable aura of possessiveness radiated off of her and wrapped around him like invisible chains.

Kim's gaze flicked from Veronica's smug expression down to Veronica's hand shoved deep into Logan's pocket. Kim looked uncertainly at Logan but he barely registered her reaction. He was too stunned by Veronica's blatantly possessive act to care about anything else.

Veronica had just claimed him in public. Short of tattooing her name on his forehead, she couldn't have made it any more obvious that she considered him her private property. He knew he should feel insulted or indignant, or some other macho bullshit, that she was acting so possessively.

He wasn't.

He was _fucking _ecstatic. He had fought so hard to have even the most tenuous hold on her. Her response gave him back the sense of comfort and _belonging _he had lost the day she'd broken up with him. And this time he was going to be smart enough to keep what was really valuable in his life.

He threw his arm around her shoulders and held her tightly to his side. Veronica squeaked as he pushed her deeper into the dark alcove and bent down for her mouth. It was awkward as she still had her hand in his pocket but he managed.

"Logan…" she tried to protest but his tongue in her mouth silenced her.

Logan didn't know when the hostess slunk away. He couldn't care less about the unknown brunette. All he cared about was getting Veronica somewhere private so he could get her naked and burn up in her newly uncovered jealousy. His free hand crept up to her breast and he squeezed, feeling her heart pound fiercely under his fingers.

Veronica gasped and tore her mouth away from his. "Logan, we're in public," she hissed.

His hand froze on her breast and he looked around anxiously. They were hidden from the main lobby and the dining room, but directly in the sight of the hostess table and the bar. No one at the bar was paying any attention to them but the group of young woman at the hostess table – minus Kim –watched with knowing smirks and speculative interest.

Veronica pulled her hand out of his pocket and stepped out of his arms. She ran her hand through her hair, even though neither of them had mussed it, and took a deep breath. Her cheeks were flushed and her aroused nipples were clearly visible against her thin pink sweater.

Logan shifted to block their audience's view with his back and lightly stroked her nipple. Veronica gasped again and pressed her hands over her breasts. He bent down and touched his forehead to hers and they breathed together, waiting for their bodies to cool down and the obvious signs of arousal to ease.

"I have to go back to the table," she insisted half-heartedly.

"Okay," he agreed, but didn't move.

She nuzzled his cheek. "I'll try to make it fast," she promised.

He breathed in her familiar perfume and powder scent. "That would be good."

"Take care of those pictures, I need them," she reminded him as she strung tiny kisses along his jaw.

"I will," he assured her, turning his head so she could kiss down the other side.

She pushed at him gently and he obediently stepped back. She looked down to make sure her errant nipples had softened then faced him again. She bit her lower lip and looked worried.

"This thing – us – is getting stronger and stronger," she observed quietly.

"Yeah, it is," he confirmed solemnly.

"Logan," she began helplessly.

He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. "We'll be fine, Veronica," he soothed. "Finish your dinner and we'll talk about it at home."

She looked unconvinced. He kissed the tip of her nose and gave her a gentle nudge. She gave him a last, lingering look then reluctantly walked back to her table. Logan watched her go and sighed. So now what was he supposed to do?

A waiter walked past him wielding a loaded tray. The aroma of sizzling meat wafted back and Logan's stomach growled audibly. He turned to the gaggle of girls at the hostess table.

"What's the wait for a table?" he asked.

One of the women consulted the monitor in front of her. "At least an hour," she informed him regretfully.

"You can eat at the bar," a sultry voice murmured in his ear. "But there's only one open seat."

Logan turned to look at the speaker. It was Kim. She smiled at him speculatively. He looked past her to the bar and saw the available stool.

"Thanks." He nodded briefly at the hostess and walked over to the empty seat.

It was a good spot, giving him a clear view of the dining room and out the front glass windows. He noted idly that his car was still parked out front. He had given the valet his keys but hadn't waited for a claim stub. The kids were probably worried about parking it.

The bartender walked over. "You have to be twenty-one to be here," he announced gruffly.

Logan pulled out his black American Express card and put it down on the bar with a sharp snap. "Steak," he ordered. "The biggest and best you've got, medium-well. And there's a hundred-dollar tip in it for you if you can get it to me in the next five minutes." He smirked and added, "And a Coke, no booze."

The bartender wordlessly looked at the card and walked away. Logan grinned and relaxed. He couldn't satisfy his craving for Veronica just yet, so he'd feed a different appetite while he waited. After two days of bone-melting sex and stroke-inducing stress, he needed to keep up his strength.

"Nice play," Kim purred over his shoulder.

Logan turned to look at her. "I'm really hungry," he informed her coolly. "I worked up an appetite."

"Mmmm," Kim's gaze roamed down his body, then back up, deliberately pausing at his crotch before finally lifting back to his face.

Logan looked past her into the dining room. Veronica had gone back to the table and was in an earnest conversation with the redhead. But Leo D'Amato was watching him with a hard, set expression on his normally open, boyish face.

Kim also turned to look. "It seems that your _friend_ has found new playmates," she observed.

Logan merely grunted in response. Kim turned back to him and smiled predatorily. Her glittery dark eyes and deepening smile made the hairs on the back of Logan's neck stand on end. He knew her type. In fact, he was _over_ her type. He didn't want or need emotionless and empty sex anymore. He had Veronica now and, while she did have her shortcomings, she certainly didn't lack in emotion and passion.

He remembered Veronica's swift and unexpected jealous reaction. She hadn't expressed that kind of blatant ownership before. She hadn't even expressed a _desire_ to have that kind of claim on him before. Veronica tended to be circumspect in public, shying away from drawing unnecessary attention to herself.

She would only give him quick little kisses when they met for lunch over the summer. Their make-out sessions had been reserved for the backseat of his car, when she felt safe from the prying eyes of other students. She had _never _fondled him in public. He could almost feel her hot little hand in his pocket, boldly wrapping around his thigh and his cock stiffened in reaction.

Unfortunately, Kim noticed. She glanced down at his crotch again and her smile turned smug. Misplaced triumph made her dark eyes glitter even more. She leaned closer.

"I get off at midnight," she informed him breathlessly.

Logan smirked and shook his head. How dense was she that the hostess thought he was getting hot for her? Had Kim already forgotten Veronica practically cupping him in front of her? Had she blocked out how Logan had pushed Veronica further into the alcove and shoved his tongue into her mouth?

Logan was all for healthy rivalry but he was clearly taken and the brunette was irritating him. Plus, Kim had made remarks that could have damaged Veronica's reemerging sexual self-confidence. Hurting Veronica was an unforgivable offense as far as he was concerned.

Logan gave her a level look. "I'll be getting off a lot sooner than that. Just as soon as my girlfriend finishes her business dinner and I get to take her home."

Kim stepped back, the smile dying on her face. She sniffed disdainfully and turned away, nearly flipping her hair in his face. Logan leaned back to avoid backlash by her furious departure.

Where did girls learn to use whipping their hair around as a weapon? Logan pondered for a second then decided he didn't care. Kim wasn't a problem anymore and he didn't mind when Veronica's light, baby-fine tresses brushed his skin, In fact, he loved it when she trailed her hair along his chest.

"You got lucky," the bartender's voice informed him.

Logan turned back to the bar and blinked in confusion, still lost in his fantasy. His expression darkened and he glared at the older man. Had the bartender been watching him with Veronica in the alcove? Was he insinuating that Veronica was a casual pick-up?

The man put an enormous plate down in front of him with a flourish. He nodded at the steak and smiled with satisfaction. Logan felt his tense muscles relax. The bartender was talking about the food, not taking pot-shots at his girl.

"Wow, I sure did." Logan leaned closer and took a deep breath. "Damn, this smells good."

The bartender handed over utensils and a cloth napkin. "I swiped this plate when the prep chef turned away to get more parsley." He grinned conspiratorially at Logan. "I just made sure the meat was right. I hope you like mashed potatoes and green beans."

"Never more than I do at this moment," Logan agreed happily and dug into his dinner.

It was damn good and he ate like he hadn't had food in days, which he hadn't. He didn't pause for breath until the meat was gone and he was ready to attack the vegetables. The sense of being watched prickled down his spine. He looked up at the mirror behind the bar and saw Leo standing over his shoulder. Their gazes locked in the smoky mirror. The deputy looked grim, his eyes flat and his jaw locked. Logan calmly finished his bite before he put down his knife and fork.

"This is a nice place," Leo began coolly. "They're not going to risk their liquor license by serving a minor."

Logan didn't bother to turn around. "I'm eating, not drinking."

"What are you doing here, Echolls?" Leo demanded.

"I am eating," Logan repeated, enunciating each syllable carefully. He gestured to his plate. "What the hell does it look like?"

"Of all the restaurants in Neptune, why did you have to pick this one?" Leo probed.

There was no point in lying to the deputy sheriff. They both knew why he was here. Not that Logan had any intention of lying. Why should he? He had nothing to hide. And Veronica was going to end up in _his _bed tonight.

Logan held Leo's gaze in the mirror. "Because Veronica's here."

Leo sighed. "Why don't you just leave her alone? Haven't you done enough to her?"

_She's the one who shoved her hand into _my _crotch._

Logan thought it but had enough sense not to say it out loud. Veronica would not take kindly to him telling her friends about their sex life. Of course, Deputy Doofus probably didn't even know that he and Veronica _had_ a sex life. Leo probably thought that Veronica was still an untouched angel.

Veronica _was_ his angel but her halo had been ripped from her long ago.

Before she was ready to lose it.

_This thing – us – is getting stronger and stronger._

Logan blinked rapidly and looked away from Leo. Veronica still had that sheen of innocence around her even after all she had been through. It was because she really still was innocent under the scar tissue. A marshmallow thrust into fire developed a hard, blackened crust. But the fluffy goodness inside was even sweeter and softer after the trauma.

Logan froze. Veronica has been worried and even a little afraid before she walked back to her table. He hadn't had much of a chance to reassure her. Was the intensity of their relationship starting to overwhelm her? Did she regret her display of dominance in front of the pushy hostess? Had she asked Leo to keep Logan away from her?

The food in front of Logan suddenly looked waxy and unappetizing. The steak he'd enjoyed only moments earlier now felt like lead in his stomach. Logan turned slowly to face Leo.

"Did Veronica ask you to talk to me?" Logan asked, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest.

Leo shook his head. "No, she doesn't know I'm here. She and Jade wanted to stop in the restroom before we left."

The heavy feeling in Logan's stomach eased. "Then why are you harassing me?" he asked irritably.

"Because you're harassing Veronica," Leo snapped. "I saw you drag her into that alcove. I was about to come and get her when you finally let her go. She was flushed and upset when she got back to the table. We didn't talk about it because Jade was there but I could tell she didn't want to be here anymore."

"And you think it's because I _threatened_ her?" Logan asked incredulously.

"Didn't you?" Leo demanded.

"Hell, _no_," Logan denied. "I know you don't like me and I know you've heard all kinds of shit about me but that's all crap. The truth is that I would _never_ hurt Veronica."

Again, Logan fought the urge to tell Veronica's over-protective, gun-toting former boyfriend _exactly_ what his relationship with her was like. But the thought of Veronica's reaction kept his mouth shut. He wasn't about to do anything to piss her off when he was this close to finally getting through to her.

Leo looked toward the door and Logan saw a flash of Veronica's pink sweater. The crowd shifted and he saw her standing in the foyer, chatting with her client. The redhead was talking animatedly and clinging to Veronica's arm with both hands. Veronica's smile was strained and she seemed to be trying to extract herself from the little redhead's hold. Leo turned back to Logan, looking surprisingly fierce.

"If you do anything to hurt Veronica, you'll have me to deal with," Leo promised. "Just remember, I have a gun and the sheriff won't mind if you disappear. He doesn't like you very much."

Logan smirked. "That just means I'll have to continue to be a solid, upstanding citizen and win my way back into his good graces."

Leo was not amused. "Don't hurt Veronica," he ordered grimly.

Logan dropped the sarcasm. He relaxed his shoulders and smoothed the smirk out of his expression. There was no point in baiting the deputy. Leo was only trying to protect Veronica. Here was a first; he and Deputy Leo were on the same side.

"Believe me, I want her to be happy more than you do," Logan assured quietly. "There's no need to do any target practice on my account."

Their gazes locked in the mirror for a tense moment. Then Leo glared at him and turned away. Logan watched in the mirror as Leo escorted Veronica and Jade out of the restaurant. Logan tuned back to his dinner and picked up his fork again. He took a few half-hearted bites but he didn't feel like eating anymore. He caught the bartender's eye and gestured with his credit card. The bartender was at his side in an instant to snatch up the precious card.

"It must be nice to be able to wave a black card around and have everybody jump to do your bidding," a sultry voice whispered in his ear.

A smile tugged at the corners of Logan's mouth. He didn't have to look up or turn around to recognize the speaker. His head – and other parts of his body – perked up as the familiar, sweet voice washed over him.

"I have a feeling it's going to take more than a credit card to get you to do my bidding," he flirted, keeping his gaze fixed on the plate in front of him.

Soft lips brushed against the edge of his ear in a brief caress. "I think you might have something else that interests me," she purred.

He tilted his head closer in hopes of eliciting another caress. "And it's something that's not going to cost me anything?" he questioned, allowing his voice to drop an octave.

"Oh, it'll cost you," she assured him. "But it's not money."

"Hmmm," he pondered, "what else do I have that you could possible want?" He leaned back slightly and allowed himself to be enveloped in that perfume and powder scent he loved so much.

"You still have my dog," she reminded him dryly. She nipped his ear teasingly then jumped away with a startled exclamation.

Logan jerked around to look at her. "What happened?"

Veronica was glaring at the man who had just sat down next to him. The man, middle-aged and slightly intoxicated, smiled back insincerely.

"Sorry," he apologized, not looking the least bit remorseful. "It's such a tight space here. I didn't mean to rub against you."

Logan also glared at the man. Yes, the bar was full, but not that full. Logan's hands curled into fists and he was about to get out of his seat when Veronica slipped into his lap. He looked down at her in surprise.

"There's no place else to sit," she explained. She batted her lashes innocently, almost as good at the baby-doll-eyes look as Kim, the hostess.

She placed her hands over his and rubbed soothingly. Logan reluctantly uncurled his fists. It would have felt good to bash the pervert's teeth into the back of his throat, but not as good as it felt to have Veronica in his lap. He allowed the tension to ease out of his body. She snuggled in and grinned when he groaned softly.

The dirty old man beside him released his breath on a loud hiss. Logan looked at him in the mirror over the bar. The pervert was looking at Veronica with the same glittery lust Kim has shown when she tried to pick up Logan earlier.

Logan pulled Veronica deeper into his lap and wrapped his arms around her. He looked down at her legs. She was wearing a pink and black plaid skirt that covered her almost to her knees. But then she made herself more comfortable, resting her heels on the rungs of his stool, which raised her knees and the skirt flipped down to expose more of her luscious thighs.

The bartender put Logan's bill and his black card down beside his plate. Logan leaned forward to sign the receipt and casually smoothed her skirt up her legs. He rested his free hand on her knees as he totaled the bill and pushed it away.

Veronica's eyebrows rose and disappeared under her bangs. "That's an impressive tip," she observed.

"He earned it," Logan assured her, running his hands lightly along her knees and down her calves. He frowned as he finally noticed the chill on her skin. "You're cold."

She shrugged. "We're by the window. I didn't realize it was going to be this cold."

"December in SoCal," he pointed out. "Don't worry, I'll find a way to keep you warm."

She raised her finely arched brows again. "You'll find a way to keep my legs warm? What are you going to do? Offer me your pants?"

He rubbed her calves lightly. "Maybe. You were so anxious to get into them when we were in that alcove."

She rolled her eyes at him. "I was protecting you," she insisted. "A sweet, innocent little boy like you could get hurt on your own in a place like this."

"Really?" he commented dryly. "Then I need to thank you for taking care of me."

He leaned close to her and she allowed him to kiss her briefly. She pulled back when he tried to deepen the kiss. He frowned but she reassured him with another quick kiss.

"How about we move this somewhere a little more private?" she suggested.

Right. Veronica didn't do public displays of affection. Unless she felt that someone was encroaching on her private property. Then she turned fierce and territorial. The memory of his little blond hellcat warmed him again. Damn, that felt good. Logan couldn't remember the last time anyone had fought to keep him.

He swiveled in the bar stool, careful to keep his back to the lecherous drunk. She hopped out of his lap but he kept his arms around her as he slipped off the stool. He pressed into her back, shielding her from further drunken groping, as they maneuvered through the thickening crowd.

Once outside, Logan saw that his X-Terra was no longer parked in front of the restaurant. Great, now that they were leaving, the valet got their asses in gear and parked his car. He turned to Veronica.

"I'll give them your valet ticket then we'll wait inside," he suggested.

She shook her head. "I didn't use valet," she explained. "I parked in the parking lot next to the bank."

He frowned down at her. "Why did you do that?"

"I came from the other side of town," she pointed out. "I didn't see that the restaurant had valet parking until after I parked."

She shivered delicately and he pulled her closer to his side.

"Okay, then give me your car keys and I'll get your car," he offered. "You can wait in the lobby where it's warm. But stay away from the bar," he warned.

She smiled mischievously. "But why?" she asked innocently. "That man who sat next to you was certainly very friendly."

He shook his head and ginned down at her. She looked like a candy confection with her long blond hair and pale pink outfit. The kind of sweet treat that every drunken, grabby asshole at the bar would love to nibble. Logan couldn't blame them. He was planning on eating her whole once he got her home. But she was allowing him to have her, while the drunks at the bar were trying to steal something that wasn't rightfully theirs.

"The only person who's going to get friendly with you tonight is me," he informed her.

She arched her brow. "That's a little presumptuous of you, isn't it?"

"Don't worry. I'm willing to earn it," he assured her.

She tilted her head to the side and studied him. "This might be interesting," she purred. She took his hand and tugged. "Let's walk," she insisted. "It'll take two minutes."

He allowed her to tug him along. "Where are Leo and your client?"

"They both used the valet, so I suppose they just left," she replied.

They stopped at the curb to wait for the light to change and a gust of wind lifted her skirt. She shivered again and he pulled her close to his side. The light changed and they ran across the busy intersection, hand in hand. Veronica laughed out loud as she hopped up onto the opposite curb.

Logan turned to look at her and was struck by her expression. She looked happy. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair was a windblown halo and her eyes sparkled. When was the last time they'd had this? Was there a time before when she'd been with him, held his hand and laughed with happiness?

It didn't matter if they never had it before. They had it now and they were going to keep it. He retuned her smile and felt lighter than he had in a long time. He used their joined hands to pull her along. Veronica giggled again and Logan smiled at her affectionately.

It was a typical Friday night in Neptune. The streets were filled with last of the workaholics heading home and the more adventurous looking for the hippest new bars, restaurants and clubs. The streetlamps cast pools of light to illuminate the walkways in front of the darkened businesses while bright neon signs ensnared the hipsters.

Logan looked back over his shoulder. The restaurant glowed like a beacon, throwing light onto both cross streets from its corner perch. He was going to have to remember this place. The food had been great, the service quick and the little blond snuggled in his lap had provided the perfect entertainment.

He was swiveling his head back when something odd caught his attention. A motorcycle was idling on the street, diagonally across from them. This bike was strategically parked between the pools of lamplight, mostly in the shadows. It was full dark now but the driver was wearing a helmet with a sun visor. The rider couldn't have forgotten flip the visor up, could he? How could he see where he was going?

The shielded driver appeared to be watching them and a chill washed over Logan. Four lanes of traffic separated them but Logan could _feel _the animosity pouring off the biker. Some protective sixth sense, or maybe the way the driver angled his bike, made Logan stiffen. Veronica stopped and looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I don't know," he answered, "Just a feeling".

He respected that feeling. Too much shit had happened to him in his life to discount the way the fine hairs were standing up on the back of his neck. Maybe he was overreacting. Or maybe it was fate coming to smack him down now that he had a little happiness in his life.

Either way, he had Veronica with him. No matter what else, he had to keep her safe. He kept her tucked firmly at his side as he studied the scene around them.

The area in front of the bank was thirty-minute parking but it was empty now that the bank was closed. There was traffic on the street, too much for them to cross safely back to the security of the restaurant. So their only option was the parking lot, more than a hundred yards away.

Logan took Veronica's elbow. "Move faster," he ordered.

She looked around in confusion, "Why? What's wrong?" she demanded.

There was no point in alarming her if nothing was wrong. He took a deep breath and tried to keep the tension out of his voice. "You're cold. Let's just get to your car so you can warm up," he improvised. He propelled her forward at a brisk pace.

"Logan, slow down," she pleaded.

She was practically running as she tried to keep up with his longer strides. Her delicate sandals weren't made for exertion and she stumbled. Off balance, she pitched forward and Logan lunged to catch her before she hit the pavement.

A shot rang out, shattering the festive evening atmosphere and embedding into the glass over their heads. Veronica shrieked, the bank's alarms began to ring shrilly and panicked drivers began swerving dangerously all over the road. The bullet lodged into the bank's bullet-proof glass window, spreading cracks out like a spider's web. But the reinforced glass held, sparing them from a shower of broken shards.

Another shot rang out, this time in front of them, cracking the glass in the lobby door.

Logan shoved Veronica down onto the sidewalk. The chaos of the suddenly snarled traffic and blaring alarms gave them some cover, unless a panicked driver drove onto the sidewalk. It was a real possibility as the concentration-destroying alarms continued to blast.

Logan surveyed the scene while trying to keep his head down. Veronica was curled up in a ball beside him, her head tucked protectively under his arm. Horns blared and people screamed but the shrill noise of the security system reverberated around them, nearly drowning out all other noise.

Then Logan spotted the single headlight barreling down the street at full speed. The rider weaved through the stopped cars with expert ease. The bike was a blur of motion as Logan tried desperately to pick out identifying features.

Suddenly a flash went off beside Logan and he jumped up, turning instinctively to cover Veronica. But she pushed him aside and aimed again, taking another flash picture of the fleeing rider. The rider jammed on his brakes when the second flash went off. The bike tires screeched, releasing smoke and the scent of burning rubber into the atmosphere.

The bike wobbled dangerously and Logan seized what might be his only chance to save Veronica. He lifted her into his arms and slammed his back against the shattered glass of the lobby door. The glass held. Logan tried again, desperate to break the glass and get them to some form of shelter.

Another shot rang out and Logan felt a burning sensation against his arm. The combined force of the bullet and Logan's body weight forced the bullet-proof glass to pop out of its frame and fall into the ATM vestibule, taking Logan and Veronica with it.

The air was forced out of his lungs as Logan fell onto the vestibule floor, Veronica's body weight landing squarely on his chest. His head hit the ground so hard that it bounced and he grunted. But he barely felt the pain. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and the age-old instinct to protect himself was a better pain suppressant than morphine.

He rolled over onto his knees, Veronica still held to his chest. The door glass was a mesh of sharp spikes and the force of the fall had finally broken it, spilling glass shards across the ground. Logan scrambled across the floor as he tried to get as far away from the open doorway as he could. The broken glass bit into his knees but at least he had some protection from his jeans. Veronica's legs were bare and he tried to hold her high in his arms to keep her away from the glass. Over his shoulder, Veronica sighted the camera and shot again, the flash briefly lighting the interior of the vestibule as brightly as daylight.

"Put that camera away!" he screamed.

"I'm trying to identify this guy," she explained.

Logan put her down and yanked the camera out of her arms. "And I'm trying to keep you alive," he snarled.

Veronica opened her mouth but didn't say anything. Her eyes were wide and frightened, as though she was finally realizing how precarious their position really was.

He threw the camera away, out onto the sidewalk. There was a chance that the rider only wanted the pictures and wouldn't shoot them if he got the film. It was a small hope but Logan didn't have anything but hope.

Veronica pressed something into his hand and Logan looked down. It was her taser. He took the weapon and pressed the activation button. Sparks dance between the plugs and he smiled with grim satisfaction. Good, now he had a weapon. It wasn't equal to his opponent's gun but it might be enough. The rider appeared to be wearing thick leather, which would insulate him to some extent from the taser's bite. Logan would only have one chance to shock the biker in an unprotected area.

Logan grabbed Veronica's messenger bag and swung it at the ceiling, dislodging the overhead light panel, plunging them into relative darkness. Now the rider would have to take off his helmet, or at least push back the visor, to see them. That might be enough to give Logan a second, long enough to taser the rider, long enough for him to tackle the bastard, long enough to give Veronica a chance to escape.

The alarms were still blasting, drowning out all noise, even his own thoughts. The broken light took away his ability to see, the alarms took away his ability to hear, while the adrenaline pouring through his bloodstream deadened his sense of smell and filled his mouth with the acrid taste of fear. He only had his sense of sight and his instinct to survive.

That was his ace in the hole, his one chance to get Veronica and himself out alive. Logan had fought his whole life. He knew how to fight dirty and how to fight to survive. Another shot rang out, closer this time. He shoved Veronica back and wrapped the strap of her bag around his left hand. He held the taser in his right hand.

Logan didn't know how much time had passed as he crouched by the doorway, muscles tense and ready. His heart was racing so fast that he felt dizzy. His palms were sweaty and the taser slipped slightly in his grip. He gritted his teeth and held the weapon tighter. And still the alarms blared.

A shadow appeared outside the glass vestibule then the outline of an outstretched hand holding what appeared to be a gun. Logan rose slightly, trying to gauge his assailant's knee level, knowing that a blow to the back of the knees would be most effective to take him down.

A shaft of bright light speared through the darkness. _Shit. _The guy had a flashlight. They were sitting ducks. He reached back for Veronica, making sure she was tucked behind him, shielded by his body. He raised the taser and watched the shadow loom closer.

The assailant was almost to the vestibule door when Veronica grabbed Logan's arm. Simultaneously, Logan dropped his weapon and the shadowed figure crossed the vestibule, aiming the flashlight directly into Logan's eyes.

Logan tried to swing out with Veronica's bag but his opponent stepped back nimbly, out of reach.

Veronica caught his other arm and latched onto him like a limpet. Logan tried to shake her off. What the hell was she doing? He was trying to save her life and she was about to get them both killed. The man turned the flashlight onto himself and Logan saw what Veronica has already deduced.

It was Leo.

Leo held out his hand and Veronica took it. He pulled her to her feet then extended his hand for Logan. Logan ignored it and got to his feet without assistance. He followed them as Leo ushered Veronica out of the bank vestibule and onto the street.

The traffic was still stopped but the chaos seemed to have settled down. The motorcycle rider had disappeared in the confusion. Pedestrians were still on their hands and knees, drivers were getting out of their vehicles and the bar and restaurant patrons had their noses pressed to the glass. All were staring at the destruction done to the bank façade with dumbfounded expressions.

And still that damn alarm kept blaring.

Logan covered his ears. "When are they going to turn off that damn alarm?" he demanded.

Veronica and Leo were huddled together, talking. Logan frowned. That couldn't be right. How could they hear each other over that noise? He turned to look at the street and saw emergency strobe lights flashing in the distance. He turned to look back at Veronica. Her eyes were wide and she was staring at him in horror.

"What?" he asked.

Or he tried to ask. For some reason his mouth wasn't working properly. Then all the streetlights started to turn off. Logan blinked, more confused than ever. This was a crime scene, for God's sake. There were people roaming these streets. Why would they turn off the streetlamps? They needed to see where they were going.

Then everything went dark.

And blissfully silent.


	12. Chapter 12

Logan stared out the passenger window as the familiar sights of Neptune passed by him. It had been a while since he'd driven around so late at night. At least, a while since he'd driven around late at night _sober_. And he was sober now. Not a drop of alcohol since Veronica snatched the vodka bottle out of his hand the day before.

Or at least he thought it was the day before. Time had lost all meaning for him. The whole night was a blur of endless police questions, nosy onlookers snapping his picture with their cell phones and police tape. He'd tried to answer Lamb's questions as patiently as he could but he didn't get along well with Neptune's finest.

It was odd to be a passenger in his own car but Veronica wouldn't let him drive. He'd been irritated when she'd insisted on taking him to the ER. Cuts, bruises and broken bones were nothing new to him and he didn't need a doctor for this one. He would've refused if he hadn't seen how the demand annoyed Lamb. The sheriff tried to prevent them from leaving but Veronica easily eviscerated Neptune's poor excuse for a lawman.

They'd had to get his X-Terra because her car was still parked at the crime scene. Lamb had regained his usual smirk when he'd informed them that Veronica couldn't get her car until the investigation was concluded. Veronica had barely concealed her disappointment and Logan had wanted to punch the egotistical smile off the asshole's face.

Good ole Leo had intervened before Logan could have the satisfaction. Leo had escorted them to valet, kept the onlookers from getting too close to them, gotten the X-terra released in record time and generally been the annoying good guy Logan hated him for being.

But never mind Leo. The deputy was still at the bank, dealing with a long night of gawkers and traffic control. Meanwhile, Logan was the one who was going to spend the night curled up with the blonde at his side. The thought brought a delighted smirk to his lips. He looked over at Veronica.

The early morning traffic was non-existent but she was still concentrating on her driving. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth and the soft tissue looked bruised. He reached over to brush his fingers over her mouth, ignoring the twinge of pain that ran up his arm. Veronica jerked her head away.

"Logan, stop it," she ordered. "You're supposed to rest your arm."

He let his hand fall to her shoulder. "I am resting it. It's very comfortable where it is."

"It belongs at your side," she admonished. She dipped her shoulder and pulled away. His hand slid down her arm and he felt the bite of the stitches again.

He put his hand on her knee and pretended to pout. "Aww, Veronica, you're not doing a very good job at being my nurse. I'm _wounded_. You're supposed to be nice to me and offer me sex to distract me from my pain."

She looked away from the road long enough to glare at him. "Don't even joke about it, Logan," she snapped. "It's not funny."

No, it wasn't funny. But if he stopped to think about just how serious the night could have been, he'd freak out. Veronica could have _died_. Just thinking about it was enough to make cold sweat break out along his spine. Logan didn't fear death, at least not his own. Losing his own life would bring a sort of peace for him. Losing Veronica, however, would destroy him.

So he continued to try to keep things light.

He slid his hand between her knees and squeezed her warm, soft thigh. Her pleated skirt began to bunch as his hand slid closer to her warmth. Veronica clasped her knees together and grabbed his wrist.

"No, Logan," she warned. "Stop it."

She pulled his hand out from between her legs and pushed it back to his side. He turned his hand, palm up, to take her hand in his. But she let go of his wrist and put both her hands back on the wheel, her attention fixed firmly on the road. He frowned at her as the vague sense of uneasiness he'd been trying to ignore settled into a cold lump in his chest.

Why was she pulling away from him? Weren't they past all that bullshit? They were supposed to be solid now. She had shoved her hand in his crotch and told that waitress in no uncertain terms that he was taken. Was she going to throw him back again?

"Veronica…" he began, trying to keep his voice even, keep the fear out of it.

But Veronica wasn't listening. She'd stopped the X-Terra in his driveway. Logan watched as she pressed the gate control button attached to his driver's side visor. Nothing happened. She waited a few seconds then pressed the button again. Still nothing. She pressed the button to roll down the window and turned to him.

"What's the code to get into the house?" she asked.

Logan looked past her to the security panel mounted into the reinforced concrete wall. That's right. He'd changed the codes for the security system and forgotten to synchronize the remote controls. Trina was going to have a hissy fit the next time she came home. But then, Trina rarely came home. Not that he could blame her. Who the hell would want to live in this mausoleum?

"Logan," Veronica repeated sharply, pulling him out of his bitter thoughts.

He shifted his gaze away from the panel and focused on her. She was slipping away from him. He could see it in her eyes. Her expression was chilly, distant, remote even. She looked brittle and untouchable.

_Dammit. _This wasn't supposed to happen again. They were _past _this. The night hadn't been his fucking fault. She had to know that. He wasn't setting pools on fire or hanging out with his 09er buddies. He had behaved like a perfect freaking gentleman all damn evening and she was still pulling away.

How could she conveniently forget that his life was a disaster zone and that he was _still _the eye of the fucking storm? Had she really forgotten? Of course she had. That's how Veronica coped with things. She pretended everything was _normal_.

Bitterness filled him, spilling its corrosion into the open wounds of his soul. He couldn't give her normal. The one thing she wanted most was the only thing he couldn't give her. He could give her love, loyalty, fidelity, a fortress and all the material trappings, but he couldn't give her normal. The hopelessness of his situation felt like a crushing weight on his chest.

"Our initials," he responded dully.

She stared at him blankly for a few beats then her expression smoothed out to bland composure. "Logan, I need the access code to get onto your property," she explained, speaking slowly and carefully as though he were a confused child. "If you don't remember the access code, maybe we can use the emergency code," she suggested. "Is it the same as it was before?"

Logan snorted. "Of course it is. If my sister was in trouble, her own name is probably the only thing she'll remember."

"Okay," Veronica agreed in that same bland tone. "I'll just type in KATRIN and we'll deal with the security company once we get inside."

"You don't need to," he snapped.

Veronica gave him a look of long-suffering patience.

He sighed and grabbed for the tattered remains of his control. Focusing on the issue at hand allowed him to ignore the sense of impending doom that sat heavy in his chest. There would be more than enough time to brood over his fucked-up life, after Veronica left him.

Again.

"The access code is V-L-M-L-L-E," he clarified, unconsciously adopting the same bland, careful tone she was using.

Veronica's bland mask slipped for a moment and she appeared stunned. "When did you change it?"

Logan just looked at her. "Does it matter?"

She turned away and leaned out the car window to key in the code. The gate slid open smoothly and she put the SUV back in gear. Neither spoke as she pulled in the front courtyard and parked near the door. Logan reached for his seatbelt then hissed out his breath at the pain that laced up his arm.

"Logan, your stitches," she reminded and brushed his hand away.

She released his seatbelt, then her own. Logan turned away from her and opened the car door.

"Don't!" she ordered as she scrambled out of the high bucket seat. "I'll come around and help you."

He ignored her and got out of the car unaided. He'd be damned if he let some five-foot-one drill sergeant order him around. But then, he was damned even if he didn't.

"Why didn't you wait for me?" she scolded as she shut the car door behind him. "The doctor said you're supposed to take it easy."

"It's just a scratch," he insisted and ignored the urge to rub his throbbing upper arm. "I've had worse."

She hurried past him and keyed open the door before he got there. "You have stitches and a mild concussion. You have to take it easy."

He turned his head away to hide his grimace. Easy? When had his life ever been easy?

"Like I said, I've had worse," he muttered, brushing past her and turning the doorknob.

"Not to mention the tetanus shot and the fainting," she continued.

"I was there, Veronica," he snapped. "I don't need you to recite it to me."

Veronica's steps faltered and she looked at him in dismay. She followed him but stopped just inside the door, holding onto the handle like it was a lifeline. "The doctor said you could take acetaminophen if it hurts," she reminded him, her voice still low and soft. "Do you have any?"

_Acetaminophen_. He almost laughed in her face, but stifled it into a bitter snort. He'd had more broken bones, concussions and bruises than he could recall. If he'd only had acetaminophen to numb the pain, he'd have given up long ago.

"Yeah," he assured her. "I've got what I need."

She opened her mouth then closed it, staring at him with wounded eyes. She still stood in the doorway, half in and half out, as though she couldn't make herself step fully into his house. _Into his life_. He stared at her, standing only a few feet away, and watched the invisible chasm between them grow wider and wider.

Backup bound in from the hall, breaking the tableau. Veronica bent down to scratch the dog behind the ears and murmur to him. He bumped his head against her legs and whined.

"Logan," she began again, still using that hateful soft tone. "I have to go." She gestured down to the pit bull then out to the cool and inviting night behind her. "Backup."

"I know," Logan acknowledged.

And he did. He'd known from the moment he'd seen the rider across from the bank that she was going to leave him. From the second she had jumped up on the curb and laughed joyfully, he knew the clock had started ticking. It was the same pattern over and over again. He was destined to have a life that glittered on the outside, but that was corroded and desolate on the inside. Somewhere, somehow, at some time, he had pissed off some cosmic deity and he'd been paying ever since.

He'd get a few brief moments of happiness, only to watch it be snatched away from him. It didn't matter if it was sucked up by the ruthless waters of the Pacific Ocean, smashed away with an ashtray or blasted apart by a gunshot, it was always taken away.

Permanent happiness was not something Logan Echolls was intended to have.

Backup whined again, dragging Logan back from his realization. He looked down as the dog curled himself around Veronica and tried to nudge her out the door. Even the pit bull couldn't wait to get away from his fucked up life. Abruptly Logan looked away. He couldn't blame the dog. Logan didn't want to be in his own fucked up life, either.

"Will you be okay while I'm gone?" Veronica questioned.

He chuckled bitterly. Okay? It had been such a long time since he'd been okay that he barely understood what the word meant anymore. But he knew what he was supposed to say.

"Sure," he agreed. "I'll be okay."

Veronica didn't move. She continued to stare at him, her normally bright blue eyes dulled by fatigue and lack of sleep. Backup butted his head against her legs, still trying to push her out into the pre-dawn night. But Veronica resisted, holding onto the knob, her tiny frame blocking the door.

"What about food? The grocery stores are closed, but I can get the basics at a convenience store," she offered.

Logan shook his head. "I'm good."

"It'll only take a few minutes," she persisted. "All you had in the fridge was alcohol."

"And that's all I need," he muttered under his breath. He raised his voice to say, "I took care of it earlier."

"Are you sure?" she asked doubtfully. "You can't survive on vodka alone."

_Wanna bet?_ Vodka was the main staple of his diet. It kept him anesthetized and moving forward. It was his best friend and his constant companion, the one who never judged him or deserted him. Vodka was always there when he needed it.

"Yeah, I'm good," he insisted again.

She shook her head. "I'll just pick up a few things," she decided.

And force him to watch her leave him, not once, but twice? Force him to thank her as she walked out of his life again? Hell no.

"I don't need to you pick up a few things," he snapped. "I said I took care of it."

"I don't mind. It'll only take me a few minutes," she insisted.

"I said I took care of it," he repeated through clenched teeth. He stalked closer to her. "But you don't believe me, do you? You think I'm such a fuck up that I can't pick up the phone and order delivery? Well I can and I did. And if you don't believe me, you're welcome to investigate my fridge, _Detective_ Mars." He paused. "No, on second thought, you're not. I don't care if you don't believe me."

He stopped his tirade when Veronica's mouth dropped open. She looked devastated. But he ignored it, knowing the pain he was going to suffer was multiplying with every minute she stayed. He couldn't stand to see disappointment in her eyes, know that he'd once again failed to live up to her expectations. She had to leave, before he said something he'd regret. Or rather, before he said something_ else_ he'd regret.

"Go, Veronica," he ordered. "Just go and don't ever come back."

She made a choking, distressed sound. Her hand slipped off the door handle and Backup succeeded in pushing her out into the night. Logan crossed to the doorway and quietly closed the door in her stricken face.

For a moment, he just stood there, his fingers still curled around the handle. His hand was _shaking_ with the desire to wrench open the door and go after her. If he thought it would do any good, he would have. He had no pride when it came to Veronica. But he couldn't force her to accept him, anymore than he could force her to stay with him.

He had given her his love, his trust and his protection. Hell, he'd stood between her and a bullet, spilling his own blood to keep her from harm. It wasn't enough for Veronica. Nothing he did was ever enough for her.

And maybe it never would be.

Logan closed his eyes against the rush of nausea. Maybe it was better this way. There were still pieces of him left, enough shards of his shattered soul, to put together a functioning person. He felt old and defeated and tired. He was only eighteen years old, but he had lived, lost and suffered more than people four times his age. His hand fell off the door handle and he turned for the staircase.

The vodka stain still gleamed dully and Logan skirted around it with barely a glance. He had a fierce headache that throbbed in time with the pain in his arm. Luckily, he still had his mother's self-medication kit, not to mention the refrigerator full of relief.

He'd refused the pain pills at the hospital thinking he had to keep clear-headed for Veronica's sake. He'd only been out for a minute after the shooting, but it had been long enough to frighten her. She'd insisted on taking him to the emergency department and he'd been too tired to protest.

Fortunately, things had been quiet in the ER and he'd gotten checked out quickly. The doctor had stitched up the gash in Logan's upper arm, flashed a light in his eyes and did the 'follow my finger' routine. He'd pronounced Logan fit and released him to Veronica's care with the usual warning to monitor his sleep for the night.

Logan had been through it many, many times before.

He pulled his uninjured arm out of his sleeve, tugged the shirt over his head then carefully eased it over the bandage covering his upper left arm. The sleeve had been torn open and the shirt was splattered with his blood. He dropped it carelessly on the floor and went into his bathroom.

He dropped his jeans and boxers as he walked up to the mirror over the sink. Automatically, he cataloged the bruises. All in all, he'd been damn lucky. Other than the gash in his arm and the concussion, the only damage was some glass cuts and scratches to his knees and lower legs. He looked at the bandage on his upper arm and, half-hidden under the gauze, at the row of tiny finger-shaped bruises.

Logan touched the matching row of bruises on his uninjured arm. The doctor had looked at the marks, then at Veronica's delicate fingers twisting and untwisting as she sat beside him, and grinned at Logan. The man-to-man smile had lifted his spirits until he saw the stricken expression on Veronica's face.

That's when Logan had begun to worry that he was in trouble.

But trouble was something he was used to. Logan opened the medicine cabinet and, with the ease of frequent practice, affixed a water-proof bandage over the gauze. He hesitated briefly before pulling out a prescription bottle. There was no need to keep a clear head now. The pills would take the edge off his jagged and painful world. He shook two into his palm and swallowed them dry.

Kicking aside his torn and stained clothes, he stepped into the glass stall and turned on the shower with a deft twist of his hand. The water was hot and bracing, releasing a thick cloud of warm steam that quickly fogged up the enclosure. He ducked his head under the pounding water and held his breath until he saw stars. It was a trick he'd learned long ago. If he had to focus all of his energy on just staying alive, on breathing at just the right second to keep from passing out, he could ignore physical and mental pain, if only for a few minutes.

Showers were what kept Logan sane.

He pulled his head out from under the stream and sucked in air with a harsh gasp. He was just relaxing his clenched muscles when the shower door was thrown open with such force that it hit the wall. He whirled and inhaled a mouthful of steam and water when he saw Veronica holding the glass door to keep it from closing again.

"What the fuck?" he demanded, coughing and choking on the hot moisture.

"I want to talk to you," she announced in a cold voice.

She looked as angry and defiant as a tiny, pink-clad angel could look. Her hair was tangled and wild, her eyes were rimmed with sleep-deprivation circles and her lips were bruised and raw from her biting them all night. Despite the fact that it was the middle of the night and she had been awake for most of the past forty-eight hours, she still glowed. She was still so beautiful that his heart contracted.

It took him a few seconds to regroup. What was she still doing here? Why hadn't she left yet? He didn't have any answers for those questions and it threw him. So he hid behind the defense he knew best.

"Do you think I could dry off first?" he smirked at her and stepped closer. He rested his hands on the showers walls and leaned into her, ignoring the pain from the straining stitches in his arm. He knew that the pose stretched out his torso and defined his chest and arm muscles. "Or do you prefer me wet and naked," he purred.

Veronica threw his robe at him. "Dry off, turn off your libido and get out here." She ordered.

He caught the robe as it landed against his chest. "I'm not sure my libido has an off switch."

She didn't look impressed. In fact, she looked downright hostile. Oh, yes, this was the Veronica Mars he knew and tried so hard not to love. He watched as she turned on her heel and marched out of the bathroom, yanking the door shut behind her.

She probably intended to look fierce and dangerous, like Warrior Veronica. But the high heels and flirty skirt, not to mention his new knowledge of her passionate nature, turned her every move into a seduction. His cock jerked in reaction. The effect probably wasn't the one she intended but it was just as dangerous.

He yanked the robe on over his wet skin. There weren't any clean towels to dry off with anyway. Might as well let Veronica get it out of her system so she'd get the hell out of his house. He glanced down as he belted his robe and grimaced at his semi-hard erection. Great, she wanted to get in one more bitch shriek before she left and _he_ was aroused. He really was a masochist.

Veronica was in his bedroom when he opened the door. She had her back to him and was shaking out a little tie-dyed t-shirt. She folded the shirt with quick, efficient motions. The carpet muffled his footsteps as he walked up behind her. The contents of her tote bag, which were still on his unmade bed, were now arranged in orderly piles.

He remembered dumping them out yesterday morning after spending a fruitless night searching for her. It seemed like a lifetime ago, even though it had only been twenty-four hours. In that time, he'd sunk to the depths of despair, climbed to the peaks of hope, fallen into the pits of near-death fear and now floated in the airless nothingness of resignation. It was just another day in the life of Logan Echolls, fuck-up extraordinaire.

"Where's my tote bag?" she asked, not looking at him.

He blinked in surprise. Even though he hadn't said anything, she was still aware of him at her side. Her question, asked without any bitching or shrieking, was unexpected.

"It's in the backseat of my car."

She put the folded t-shirt on top of a pile of other shirts. "You brought my tote bag to school but not my stuff?"

"If I brought your stuff then there'd be no reason for you to come back here," he pointed out.

She was reaching for a pair of cut-offs but stopped. He looked at her hand and then the sleeve of her pink sweater. There were splatters of dull red marring the fluffy material.

"There's blood on your sweater," he pointed out.

She covered the splotches with her other hand in a gesture that was almost protective. "There's blood on your shirt, too."

It was his own blood, something he could deal with. He'd watched his blood fall, from nosebleeds and broken skin, nearly all his life. As long it wasn't Veronica's blood, he could handle it. Just the thought of her hurt, even now when she was hurting him, was too painful to think about. In defense the jackass, who was never far from the surface, rose again.

"Shirt? You haven't even noticed I'm naked," he said lightly. He wasn't going to let her see how much he was hurting. She already had way too much power over him. "I'm wounded, Veronica."

A shudder passed through her and she turned to face him, her eyes glittering and her jaw tight. "I know you're wounded," she choked out. "I'm sorry this happened tonight, I really, _really_ am. _But it's_ _not my fault_."

The glitter in her eyes turned to moisture and a tear slid down her cheek. He stared at her, dumbfounded and speechless. Her fault? What the hell was she talking about?

"Do you think I wanted this to happen?" she demanded, swiping away the tear. "Do you think I wanted us to get shot at and end up in the emergency room? Do you think I _planned _this?"

He shook his head, his brain still too slow to come up with words.

"Then why are you so mad at me?" she cried. "Why are you pushing me away?"

He opened his mouth but he still wasn't capable of speech. Veronica wasn't leaving? She wasn't shutting him out? She's said she was leaving, hadn't she? But here she was, screaming at him like a banshee. Was the world suddenly tilting off its axis?

She stared at him, her beautiful face crumpling. "Was it all just bullshit, Logan? You kept pushing me to be more open and let you in but when things go wrong, _you're_ the one who shuts _me_ out."

She paused for breath and he still couldn't marshal his thoughts into any clear speech. He continued to shake his head, unable to process what she was saying. It was so different from what he expected to hear, so foreign from what he was used to hearing, that it didn't make sense to him.

Her face flushed with angry color. "I'm trying, Logan. I'm here," she pointed out. "You're the one who won't talk to me, who won't let me explain. You ordered me to leave." Her voice rose with every word until she was yelling. "You're the one who won't commit to this, not me."

He'd been trying to prepare himself for the inevitable pain of their break-up. Seeing Veronica's stricken expression had jolted him in the ER and he'd started shutting down. It hadn't occurred to him that she wasn't going to run, that she was planning on staying with him.

It was his same destructive pattern all over again. Disaster struck and he turned into a jackass, intent only on protecting himself, ignoring what his actions were doing to Veronica. Was he really that much of a hypocrite? Accusing her of weaknesses that he wasn't willing to acknowledge in himself? _She _was the one who was trying to change and overcome the protective instincts she'd developed over two years in hell.

"I'm sorry," he began, finally finding his voice.

It was too late. He'd spent too much time coming to his epiphany. Veronica, without the reassurance she needed, fell back into _her_ old pattern. She turned and ran for the door, her clothes and toiletries forgotten on his bed.

She wasn't as fast in the sandals as she normally was and Logan caught her as she crossed into the hall. He wrapped his arm around her waist and she twisted furiously, fighting to be free.

"Baby, calm down," he pleaded. "I'm sorry, Veronica. Please, just let me explain."

"No," she cried out, still struggling. "You can't jerk me around like this."

"I'm not. I swear I'm not," he insisted.

He tried to shift his hold, afraid of hurting her as she continued to wriggle in his arms. Finally, he turned and pressed her into the wall, using the full length of his body to contain her.

"Let me go," she demanded.

Her struggles untied his belt and he felt the terrycloth pull away from his torso. His cock, already semi-aroused, hardened as he pressed against her. This was familiar; her pressed against a wall, fully dressed and angry at him; him naked and aroused, intent on getting _her_ naked and aroused. This was a pattern he was more than happy to continue. He lowered his head, his lips pressed against her cheek as he slid down to her mouth.

Veronica turned her head to evade his questing lips. "Stop it," she ordered. "You're a liar, Logan. You said we were more than sex."

His head jerked back as though yanked by an invisible hand. _Fuck! _What the hell was wrong with him? He stared down at her with stricken eyes. She met his gaze and stopped struggling. He released her and stepped back, his movements slow and careful, as though stepping around a bomb that could explode from the slightest vibration. Glancing down, he hurriedly retied the sash of his robe.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

The fight seemed to drain out of her. She ducked her head but not before he saw fresh tears well up in her eyes.

"For what?" she demanded tiredly, her arms coming up to wrap protectively around her waist.

"I'm sorry for not trusting you," he admitted. "For thinking you wouldn't be here for me. And I'm sorry for being too afraid to be here for you."

She looked up at him, her eyes wet with tears. Her mouth opened but nothing came out. She was staring at him with the same befuddled expression he's probably shown her only moments ago.

"I thought you'd blame me for the shooting and break up with me. That what you did the last time." he explained, shoving his fingers into his hair. "It didn't occur to me that you'd still want to be with me," he finished lamely.

It sounded stupid and weak, even to his own ears. But a lifetime of conditioning couldn't be overcome in a single day. And because he couldn't do it, he expected Veronica to fail at it, too. She almost had, _because he had almost pushed her into it._

She was quiet for a long time then nodded slowly. "I don't blame you for the shooting," she said quietly.

"And I definitely don't blame you," he assured her.

Veronica ducked her head again, her long blonde hair concealing her features. She tightened her arms around her middle and her breathing came out in short, harsh gasps. Logan took an involuntary step closer to her then stopped himself. No matter how much he wanted to go to her, to hold her in his arms, he knew he couldn't push her into this.

She had been through too much. Emotionally, Veronica had never felt safe with him. She wanted him and she even loved him, but she still didn't trust him. It was his own fault. Every time she tried to be vulnerable with him, his own insecurities rose. He'd just done it to her again. He had to remember that she needed her space. He had to learn to love her but still let her be free.

It was too quiet. Her head was still down and he knew she was thinking. The silence was making him anxious. She'd said she was staying, hadn't she? Was she reconsidering trying to make it work with him? Logan could hear his own breathing in the silence that stretched out between them. Were his hang ups more that she could cope with? Finally she looked up. She was pale and drawn but her eyes burned with that familiar Veronica fire.

"I was terrified," she said, taking a tiny step closer to him. "I was terrified when we were being shot at."

He nodded, the fear still fresh in his mind.

She took another step closer. "I was terrified when you shoved me down on the cement and shielded me with your own body." Her grip around her waist loosened.

That had been his only clear thought, to protect Veronica. It hadn't matter that he was making himself vulnerable, as long as he kept her safe.

She took another step closer. "I was terrified when we were in the vestibule and you kept pushing me behind you, making sure I wasn't a target." Her arms lowered to her sides.

The adrenaline rush had made him nauseous but she'd been behind him, her tiny body plastered against his back, keeping him focused.

Now she was so close that he could feel the heat from her body. Her hands were clenched into tight little fists, as though she was trying to hold onto something that was slipping out of her grasp. "But I was most terrified when you passed out. I was afraid you'd been shot."

It had taken him a minute to realize that the danger had passed then his body had shut down. He may be a fuck up most of the time, but the one thing he _had _to do, he'd done well. He'd kept Veronica safe and unharmed.

He reached out and smoothed down her disarrayed blond locks. "It was the adrenaline rush. I was only out for a minute," he soothed.

"It was the longest minute of my life," she insisted, her eyes clouding up with remembered fear. "I haven't been that afraid since…" She stopped speaking.

His hand slid down from her hair to her back. She was trembling. He laid his other hand on her waist and very, very slowly wrapped her in his arms, keeping his gaze locked with hers the whole time.

"Since when?" he prompted gently.

"Since the night my dad pulled me out of that burning refrigerator," she admitted. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Since he was taken away on a stretcher."

A shudder passed through him. Keith Mars was the most important person in Veronica's life. Losing him would have destroyed her world. Was she saying that she considered Logan to be as important to her as her father? Could he really mean that much to her? He was afraid to ask.

But she answered him anyway. She locked her arms around his waist and hugged him with a strength that belied her tiny size. She buried her face into his neck and smeared her tears into his skin.

"Don't you ever do that again, do you hear me?" she ordered. "I couldn't take it if anything happened to you. _I can't survive losing you again._"

His throat constricted and heart swelled. He had to breathe through his mouth to get enough oxygen into his lungs, nearly overwhelmed by her admission. There it was. The absolution he had hoped for and feared he'd never have. Veronica wanted him, _needed him_, in her life. After all the lies, the anger and the pain, the heartbreaks and the insecurities, it was the balm his aching soul needed.

He wasn't alone anymore. It wasn't just him fighting for his happiness, it was _them_. Veronica wanted to be with him. She was willing to try to change for him. Now he had to try to change for her. But it was worth it. It was all worth it.

He held her until her shaking subsided and her tears dried, murmuring reassurances into her hair all the while. "It's okay, baby. I'm fine, we're fine. Everything is going to be okay."

Slowly, she relaxed. She didn't say anything but he could feel the tension ease out of her body, felt the softness that Veronica only expressed when she felt safe. He'd seen it before and envied it when she relaxed with her dad or when she laughed with Wallace.

Or when she curled herself around Duncan.

Logan forced back the jealousy the mere thought of Duncan brought up in him. Duncan was in their past, just like Lilly and Kendall and Leo were in the past. Veronica was faithful and true to her core. That core had been forged by a fire that Logan himself had started and was now as tough as the barbed wire that topped his security wall.

_He_ was her safe place now and he was going to do whatever it took to keep her with him. That meant taking care of her. He smiled at the irony of being the one to take care of her when he was the one who was injured. But that was okay, they would take care of each other.

He dropped a kiss into her hair and gently detangled them from each other. "Come on," he urged, nudging her back into the bedroom. "We need to get some sleep. It's been a hell of a day."

She moved like she was on auto-pilot, putting one foot in front of the other and letting him guide her to the rumpled, clothes-strewn bed. Then she stopped so abruptly that he ran into her.

Immediately, he was on the alert. "What's wrong?" he demanded.

She turned to face him, her expression once again animated and flushed with color. "Backup. He's still outside. Oh, no. He's probably destroyed the rose bushes by now." She darted around him and headed for the stairs.

It took Logan a minute to react. The 'fight or flight' rush had poured additional adrenaline into his already overloaded system. The combination of hormones and the little white pills was making him dizzy. He caught up with Veronica at the front door, where she was calling out to her pet. She threw him an apologetic glance over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I know I should've stayed with him but you were acting like an idiot. I was afraid to leave youalone," she shrugged. "I had to decide which one of you would do more damage on his own and it was you."

For a moment Logan was speechless then he laughed. "That's why you said you had to leave? To keep Backup out of the bushes?"

She nodded and scanned the empty courtyard. "And now he won't come back until he's ready. Turn on the flood lights and I'll go find him."

Logan snorted and leaned back against the door jam. "Forget the damn flowers. If he's happy, let him go at it. They're just flowers."

Veronica lifted her chin. "I won't go to bed until he's inside."

Logan straightened in alarm. She wasn't going to bed? Getting her into his bed was his sole _fucking _goal. No way was a pit bull – or anything else – going to get between him and a night of Veronica-cuddling. He deserved it. Hell, he'd fucking _earned_ it.

The solution came to him a rush of inspiration. He practically ran into the kitchen. He went into the pantry and started dumping out the bags he'd stashed there earlier. Why hadn't he actually put things on shelves instead of just shoving the full bags in a corner? Then he found what he was looking for. He grabbed the box and went back into the hall.

Veronica was coming out of the security room. "I turned on the flood lights. Hopefully, I can find Backup before all your neighbors wake up and complain."

Logan grinned at her. "No need. I got it covered. Turn off the high beams."

She frowned at him but turned back into the security room. She joined him at the front door a moment later, just in time to see Backup running towards them at full speed.

"What did you…" she began but stopped when Backup ran into Logan and knocked him onto his ass.

Logan grunted as the wind was knocked out of him. Veronica grabbed Backup's collar and tugged him away.

"Backup, stop it," she scolded.

Backup barked excitedly and tried to thrust his muzzle against Logan's side. Veronica reached between them and snatched up the box of dog biscuits. Backup turned from Logan and went for the box. She put the biscuits behind her back and gave the dog a quelling stare. Backup dropped to the floor next to Logan and began to whine pitifully. Veronica turned to glare at Logan.

"Logan," she began again, using the same scolding tone. "How many of these have you already given him?"

Logan smiled, trying to look innocent. "Only one."

"Only one biscuit?" she asked suspiciously, putting the box up on one of the few unbroken shelves.

He shrugged. "One box," he admitted.

"A whole box?" she gasped. "He's not supposed to eat that much…"

She would have said more but Logan reached out and snagged her around the waist with his good arm. The startled shriek she uttered made him laugh. He was prepared for the impact when she fell on top of him. She was soft and warm and he welcomed the familiar weight of her. Her hair fell about her face, shrouding them in a curtain of silky intimacy.

She was still annoyed with him so he kissed her. After a few seconds, she seemed to get over her snit because she began to kiss him back. He opened his mouth for her and she slipped her tongue inside, easily and without hesitation. But he didn't fully relax until she shifted to press her knees into the floor on either side of his hips, giving herself leverage. Then she grabbed handfuls of his hair and deepened the kiss, settling into the feminine dominance she liked so much.

He wrapped his arms around her, absorbing her warmth. Her lips were soft and pliable, molding to his just as her body was melting into him. She wriggled, making herself comfortable, pushing his robe open in the process. Her pleated skirt swirled around them as she settled into his lap, her warm core shielded only by the thin panel of her panties.

It was making him crazy knowing that the merest slip of fabric was all the kept him from her. He moaned in the back of his throat as his heart rate speed up and his cock thickened. He could feel her body responding. Her perfume and powder scent had faded during the long hours of fear, worry and police questions, but a richer, earthier fragrance was replacing it. The musk of arousal suited her better than the manufactured scents because it was uniquely Veronica. Or maybe it was uniquely _them,_ the result of their magical chemistry. Either way, he was already addicted to it and wanted more.

She pulled her mouth free from his with an audible pop. Her blue eyes were wild, wide and unfocused; her breathing ragged; her lips swollen and blood red. He knew her reaction mirrored his own. His breathing was audible and his vision wavered at the edges. Breathing and seeing weren't important now, all he wanted was _more_. He leaned forward, intent on her kiss-bruised mouth.

But Veronica pulled away and slid out of his lap.

"What are we doing?" she exclaimed.

He caught her before she pulled completely away. "If you have to ask, I'm not doing it right." He tried to pull her back into his lap. "Lemme try again."

She pushed away from him and rose to her feet. "Logan, you're hurt! We have to get you up."

He gestured to his erection. "You've already gotten me up."

She grabbed his arm and tried to tug him to his feet. "I want you in bed, right now," she ordered.

Well, if she was going to put it thatway.

"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that." He smirked up at her.

Veronica was not amused. "If you're not in bed in the next two minutes, Backup and I leaving, for real."

She really did mean it _that_ way.

Logan scrambled to his feet. "No need for threats," he urged. "I'm going."

Veronica watched with narrowed eyes as he adjusted his robe and headed for the stairs. "I'm coming in just a minute," she called after him.

Logan turned and walked backwards so he could see her as he climbed up the stairs. "You can count on it, sweetheart," he responded.

She gave him an exasperated look then took Backup's collar and led the pit bull into the kitchen. Logan, feeling lighter than air, bounded up the remaining steps and went back into his bedroom. The first thing he saw was Veronica's clothing in neat piles on his bed. He stopped abruptly.

So close. He had come so close to losing her again. This morning all he had was a tote bag full of unfulfilled promises. Now he had Veronica and another chance. It had been a long, wrenching day. But it was over and they were still together. The same issues that had torn them apart months earlier now brought them closer together.

Or maybe it wasn't the issues that connected them. Maybe it was the honesty. He'd had a chance to see the pain in Veronica's soul and she had seen the bruises in his. Maybe they were finally seeing each other as they really were and not the idealized images in their heads. Idolization was for the dead. Lilly could be idolized and so could Lynn. Making them kinder and more generous in death only made their memories sweeter.

But he and Veronica were still alive, still flesh and blood, able to feel and to be hurt. Still able to hurt _each other_ when they weren't careful. So they needed to be careful, always aware of the vulnerability in the other.

"Why aren't you in bed?" Veronica demanded from behind his back.

He looked over his shoulder and smiled at her. She was standing in the doorway to his room, arms crossed, looking as strict as a pink-clad angel could look. _No, not an angel._ She was real, made of flesh and blood; warm, soft and giving, as long as she was protected and loved.

"I was waiting for you," he said.

She snorted as she crossed the room. "Bull. You just didn't want to have to clean off the bed."

"Not true," he insisted. He kicked aside a mound of clothing. "I can clean with the best of them."

She turned back from the bed, her arms full. "May I have a foot or two of floor space for my clothes?" she asked.

"I can do better than that." He crossed to the dresser, opened a drawer and, in a single sweep, dumped the contents to the floor. He turned back to her with a charming smile. "How's this?"

She looked as though she couldn't decide to be amused or exasperated. She settled for rolling her eyes as she crossed to his side and began arranging her things in her new drawer. He stood over her and admired the way the light made her silky blonde hair shine.

"Why aren't you in bed, Logan?" she questioned, without looking up.

"Okay, I'm going," he agreed.

He crossed to the bed, dropped his robe and fell onto the mattress. He fluffed up the pillows and leaned back, arms crossed behind his head as he waited for Veronica to come to his side.

"Baby, I'm all set," he called out. "What's my reward?"

She gave him an indecipherable look over her shoulder then straightened away from the dresser. Her hands twisted and tugged at the ends of her t-shirt as she crossed to the foot of the bed. There was something shy, almost hesitant, about her manner as she came to his side. Slowly, he lowered his arms.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Nothing's wrong," she insisted.

He opened his mouth to say more but she pulled off her sweater. That stopped him cold. He didn't know why. There wasn't anything especially intimate about a girl removing a sweater. Except that it was _this _girl and she was removing her sweater at the foot of _his_ bed.

She draped the fluffy pink material over his footboard. Her t-shirt followed a second later. She perched on the edge of his mattress to bend down and remove her sandals. Then she stood up again to unfasten and allow her skirt to fall in a puddle around her bare feet.

The bra she wore was white with little pink flowers. The panties were plain white with a tiny pink rose embroidered on the waistband. Her belly button winked at him, directly above the little bit of embellishment. He remembered how he'd tongued it yesterday, how her entire body had reacted when he'd invaded that tiny channel. His cock jerked and his mouth went dry.

He reached out for her and she caught his hands. He tugged and she allowed herself to be pulled onto the bed. She crossed the mattress on her knees, using their joined hands for balance, until she straddled his lap again. Then she released his hands and smiled down at him.

"Now this is a familiar position," he murmured.

She tilted her head to the side and studied him. "I like being on top," she agreed.

She liked being on top because it made her feel like she was in control. It made sense that she'd want to dominate their lovemaking. She'd felt vulnerable during the shooting, knowing she was in danger, aware that he had put his life on the line for her. Now she wanted to feel like she was in charge of her life again. What better way to feel powerful than to dominate the person who'd been strong for her?

"It suits you," he agreed.

Logan had a feeling that he was going to spend a lot of time on his back. He was fine with it. Any position was a good position if it kept Veronica in his bed. It made her feel secure and the view was fantastic. He grinned as he hooked his finger into her cleavage and leaned up to bury his face between her breasts.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and lightly raked her nails across his back. He shuddered at the pleasure and his cock jerked again.

"Veronica…" he moaned.

"Shhh," she murmured and kissed him.

It wasn't a deep kiss nor was it a long kiss. He'd barely even had a chance to lick the soft inside of her mouth before she was pulling away. His next moan was guttural, not even her name. She ignored it as she kissed his chin, ran her tongue across the stubble then slid down to the soft skin of his throat. His head jerked back in reaction and she allowed him to feel the edges of teeth as she dragged her mouth down. His breath came out in a wheezing gasp as she nibbled along his pectoral and finally – _finally _– latched onto his nipple.

He buried his fingers in her hair and his eyes rolled back. He _loved_ it when she did this. He loved the delicate bite of her teeth, the wet suction of her mouth and the almost painful prickling sensation as the blood rushed into his nipple. Involuntarily, a sound rose in the back of his throat, a deep purring noise that sounded more animal than human.

Her back was rounded into an elegant arch as she balanced on her hands and knees. He pushed her hair to the side, fascinated by the way her cheeks hollowed as she pleasured his nipple. It was exactly what he wanted but it wasn't enough. His hips rose, rubbing against her, trying to get to that next level of pleasure. His cock slid against the smooth, warm panel of her panties. The cotton was dampening, from her excitement or his, he couldn't tell.

But he was spoiled now; he'd already gotten accustomed to the lush heat of Veronica's body. Thrusting against fabric was no longer enough for him. He wanted more of her; he wanted all of her. _No more barriers between them._ He ran his hands along the delicate line of her spine then against her hips, trying to push the cotton out of his way.

Veronica released him and tried to shift away. He jerked, his hands still on her hips, as the cool air settled around his wet nipple, keeping it aroused.

"Why did you stop?" he demanded, his voice rising with his concern.

She caught his hand in hers and pulled it off her hip. "Your stitches," she reminded him. "You're going to rip them out if you don't relax."

He stared at her, dumbfounded. He was mere seconds away from pure bliss and she was worried about his _stitches_? He couldn't even feel his stitches anymore. Those little white pills were magically effective.

"Forget the damn stitches," he growled. "I have." He strained upwards, latching his mouth against her smooth, warm throat, right at the juncture of neck and shoulder, where she liked it best.

She shuddered then pulled away. "Logan, stop," she ordered.

It was the tone of her voice that cut through his drug-dulled, lust-hazed senses. It was half insistent and half pleading, demanding his attention. He blinked up at her, like a mole confused by sunlight.

"What's wrong?" he questioned.

"Logan, you can't strain yourself," she insisted. "The doctor said you're supposed to take it easy tonight."

"I don't want to take it easy," he protested, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I want you."

She rubbed along his arms soothingly, careful to avoid the bandage. "You can have both," she assured him. "Just lie back and relax."

"Baby, I'm about to explode," he growled. "I can't relax."

"Yes, you can." She caught his hands in hers and pulled them away from the lure of her bare flesh. "Just lie back and let me take care of you."

The idea of her taking care of him was almost as seductive as she was. Being wrapped in Veronica's care was almost as satisfying as being wrapped in her arms. She was fiercely protective of those precious few people who made up her inner circle.

So he tried to do what she wanted. He lay back gingerly, intensely aware of the firmness of her inner thighs and the delicate weight of her body as she balanced herself so close to the part of him that was barely under control. He needed a distraction or he was going to embarrass himself.

"Kiss me," he pleaded.

"Kiss you where?" Now she was using just the tips of her fingers, running them gently along the sensitive skin of his inner elbows, raising goose bumps along his arms and across his chest.

"Anywhere you want, just kiss me."

She smiled at him then, the feral and seductive smile of a woman confident of her effect on her man. She traced her fingers over his shoulders then down to his pectorals. Using on the very tips of her nails, she lightly scratched his nipples. He sucked his breath in on a hard gasp as the nubs shrunk and hardened.

"How about here?" she asked, pinching his nipples lightly. "Can I kiss you here?"

"Yes," he croaked out.

She scraped her fingers gently along his torso, her hands meeting at the base of his sternum. "What about here?" she suggested, her voice dropping to a husky murmur.

"Yes," he nearly moaned. His penis jerked and a drop of fluid appeared on the head.

She ran her fingers down the light dusting of hair to his belly button. "I think this spot might work, too."

She flicked a long, slender finger into his belly button and his hips jerked, nearly unseating her. She laughed out loud.

"Ohh, I think I know where you want me to kiss you," she said.

He nearly choked on his own spit when she encircled the base of his penis with her hand. She used the other hand to cup the bulb, her thumb rubbing the drop of fluid around and around. He made a high, keening noise in the back of his throat and released her waist. The bedding beside his hips bunched as he grabbed handfuls and clenched tightly. He forgot all about his stitches and his promise to relax as he fought to keep himself under control.

"Veronica, I can't –," he panted.

"You don't have to," she soothed. Then she shifted down and dropped her head.

The feel of Veronica's mouth on him nearly did him in. The rub of her teeth along his shaft made his hips jerk again. But she was prepared for his reaction and rode out the movement, her head lifting up then back down, taking in more of him.

He stared at her, mustering every ounce of control, every muscle clenched. She slid down a bit more and he felt the strength of her tongue rubbing along the vein. A spark ran up the length of his spine and exploded with a shower of sparks that forced him to shut his eyes. How had she known to do that? How had she known how much he'd like that?

Her thumb settled in that perfect spot at the base of his penis and his balls tightened. This was it. His control was gone, there was no stopping now. He dug both hands in her hair and forcibly lifted her off his cock.

"Logan?" she questioned.

He caught a glimpse of her wide eyes, wild with confusion. But there was no time to reassure her then, no time to do anything but take what he so greedily wanted. He fused their mouths together, tasting the salt, tasting their heat. He pressed his hand between her legs, past the barrier of cotton, but it was too late. His cock was already spurting, completely out of his control. He humped frantically against her hip, his fingers tangled in her wet curls.

Then it was over, he'd lost it.

He'd released her lips to drag air into his lungs. His mouth was slack and his back was chilled with sweat. He slumped against her as though his body was boneless and gasped for breath. _Fuck._ Of all his lousy performances, this had to be the worst.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"For what?" She shifted and, without her support, he slid down onto the bed.

He shut his eyes tightly. "For that ten-second hump," he growled. "I just couldn't control myself."

She kissed his mouth briefly. "Thank you."

His eyes flew open. _Thank you?_ He'd just come all over her, without giving her even the slightest chance to enjoy herself, and she was _thanking _him? For what?

"For what?" he demanded.

She kissed his mouth again. "For letting me control you."

She bounced out of the bed, looking remarkably cheerful for someone who wasn't even remotely satisfied. He reached out to grab her hand but he was still sluggish and she was brimming with energy. _Of course she was. She hadn't come yet._

"Veronica, come back," he insisted. "Let me take care of you."

"In a minute," she called and went into the bathroom.

He sunk back into the bed and closed his eyes again. She wasn't mad at him. She thought his failure to perform was a result of his vulnerability to her. It was, but it didn't make him feel any better about it. He knew what he was doing; he had experience, _lots _of it. He could do so much better for her.

It had been that _tongue_ of hers that broke him. He'd been in control until she'd swabbed her tongue along the underside of his penis. Then he couldn't stop himself. It had been the perfect move, the right pressure at exactly the right instant. Hell, he'd seen fucking _stars_ behind his eyes. How'd she known what that would do to him?

And how did she know to do it in the first place?

The image that rose up behind his eyelids made nausea roll in his gut. _Duncan._ Veronica didn't tongue him like that because he, Logan, liked it. She did it because she'd learned it with Duncan.

Veronica came back into the bedroom. He opened his eyes and watched her cross to him. Her thighs glistened with water and she had a wet washcloth in her hand.

"I hope this is clean enough," she fretted. "I rinsed it in hot water."

She climbed up beside him and ran the damp cloth down his chest. He caught her hand before she could take the still-warm material to his dick.

"Don't," he ordered.

She rolled her eyes as him and gave him an affectionate smile. "You're a mess," she pointed out. "I'll be gentle."

Still, he pulled her hand away from his body. Her tender smile died and concern replaced it.

"Logan, what's wrong?" she asked. "Does your head hurt? I'll get you something for the pain."

She tried to slide out of the bed but he wouldn't let go of her hand. She was still taking care of him. She wantedto take care of him. Not Duncan, _him_.

"Do you still love him?" he blurted out.

For a few tense seconds, she froze. The look on her face was half shock and half incredulity. "What?" she finally whispered.

"Do you still love him?" he repeated, his voice ragged.

Her mouth opened and closed several times but she didn't say anything. She just looked at him with open dismay. There was no need for him to say the name. They both knew who he was talking about.

Duncan had always been the golden boy; class president, captain of the soccer team, honor roll student, _Prince Duncan_. He and Veronica had been perfect together; blond, blue-eyed, beautiful, encased in a glow of sunshine and happiness when they were together.

"I told you, it's over with him," she finally answered.

"Why?"

She looked at him in confusion. "I don't understand."

"Why did you break up with him, Veronica?" he demanded. "I saw him at lunch today. He didn't want to break up with you. Why did you leave him?"

Why would she give up perfection for a fuck-up like him?

"Because we were finished," she said simply.

That made no sense to him. "How can you finish loving somebody?"

"When the person you love is gone, you have to let go," she explained. "Like we did with Lilly and our mothers."

"But he's not gone," Logan argued. "He sat down next to you at lunch."

"He's not the same person he was and I'm not the same person I was." She shrugged. "Too much has happened and it changed us. We didn't belong together anymore."

A hard knot formed in his stomach. He knew he was digging himself deeper with every passing second. But he had to know. Did Veronica love him the way he loved her? Or would he always be second best?

"Do we?"

She looked confused again. "What do you mean?"

"Do we belong together?" He could have slapped himself in irritation. Why couldn't he stop asking these stupid questions? Where was all this needy, _pathetic_ crap coming from?

But Veronica didn't look irritated. In fact, her wary expression softened into understanding. "Yes, we belong together."

"How can you be sure?" He couldn't stop himself. He needed the reassurance. "I'm impulsive, I act without thinking and it hurts you. I don't ever want to hurt you again."

She touched the bandage on his arm. "When we heard that bullet, what was your first reaction?"

"Duck and find cover." It was the reaction any normal person would have had.

"No," she contradicted. "Your first reaction was to pull me down and cover me. You _impulsively_ shoved me behind your back and protected me."

"But yesterday, when I thought you weren't coming back, I hurt you." His face flushed with shame.

Her eyes darkened with remembered pain. Why was he reminding her of the bad times? Was he _trying_ to fuck this up?

"If I walked out the door right now, would you do the same thing?" she asked.

"Of course not," he answered immediately.

"What would you do?" she asked, her voice a bit hesitant, as though she was afraid to hear his answer.

He didn't even have to think about it. "I'd go after you and beg you to come back."

She smiled then. "You would?"

He stared at her incredulously. "Do you really have to ask?"

She shrugged. "It's nice to hear," she admitted.

"Veronica, don't you get it? You're it for me," he explained, his voice rough. "You're the one. My whole fucking life revolves around you. There is nothing in the world that is more important than you. Don't you see that? I would rather die with you than live without you."

"Logan, you need to rest," she soothed. "It's been a long, emotional day. We've both been through so much stress and you're in pain. Now isn't the time –"

"Now is the perfect time," he interrupted. "This is real, Veronica. You and I are never, ever going to have normal. Our lives are never going to be perfect. I need to know that you see that, that you see _me_. I need to be as important to you as you are to me."

He hadn't meant to say that. At least, he hadn't meant to say it that baldly. But it was the truth. There was never going to be a time in their lives that would be completely stress-free and without problems. It wasn't in their natures. Life had made them both warriors and warriors had to fight. There would always be enemies to conquer and battles to win but they could no longer fight each other and survive.

She nodded hesitantly. "Logan," she began gently.

"Say it," he ordered.

Her eyes widened but he refused to back down. He'd earned this. He'd nearly died for her tonight. In fact, he'd died over and over for her during the last few months. Every day without her, without the one person who had seen the goodness still inside him, had killed another piece of his spirit. He _needed _Veronica to believe in him. He needed Veronica to lov—.

"I love you, Logan," she said solemnly.

Logan blinked. He'd been so focused on _willing _Veronica to say the words that he could barely believe she had actually said them.

"Say it again."

She smiled at him and rolled her eyes. "You heard me."

He leaned into her, pushing her into the headboard. "Say it again."

"If you weren't paying attention…" she teased.

It was too soon to tease him. A tiny taste of heaven wasn't enough to vanquish the hell that lived inside him. "Please," he pleaded.

The smile faded away as she realized how important it was to him. Then she brushed his hair aside and looked deeply into his dark eyes. "I do love you. You know that."

Yes, he knew it but he'd never heard it. They both knew that the words were important. Words were the weapons they'd used to hurt each other so badly. Now they were going to be the tools they'd use to heal the damage. Something small and hard and painful began to burn inside his chest. He sucked his breath in on a hard gasp.

"Logan, are you okay?" Veronica asked worriedly.

"I'm fine," he assured her. It wasn't the truth but it wasn't exactly a lie, either. He wasn't really fine but he was better than he had been in a long time. The burn eased to an almost-pleasant heat as he continued to take deep breaths.

"Baby, lie down," she ordered.

Baby. _She'd called him baby_. He allowed himself to relax as he settled into the pillows. Veronica slipped out of the bed and he tracked her with his gaze. She went back into the bathroom, washcloth in hand. He heard the water run again. She came out a few seconds later and detoured to the door to flip off the light switch. The bedside lamp was still on, allowing him to watch her, her hips swinging lightly, her lovely, lithe body glowing in the lamplight as she came back to him.

She smiled as she leaned over him, running the washcloth over his chest and down his stomach. He tugged on her arm but she resisted his attempt to pull her into the bed beside him. His eyes darkened as he watched her clean his thighs then gently handle his relaxed cock.

"Lie down," he urged. "Let me take care of you." He hadn't forgotten his less-than-stellar performance.

"Not tonight," she refused. "Tonight you'll rest."

"But you didn't come," he protested.

She leaned down and gently kissed the bandage on his arm. "It's not important."

"It's important to me," he shot back.

She stilled. "You said we were more than sex," she reminded him.

"We are," he agreed instantly. "But I got to come so you should, too."

"Is this a contest? Are we keeping track?" she questioned.

"No, it's not a contest. But I want you to be happy." He rose up on his good arm.

She pushed him back. "I am happy," she insisted. Then she gave him a coy smile. "But I'd be even happier if you lie down and relax."

He stared up at her and smiled. "So we're good?"

She grinned down at him. "We're better than good."

He nodded. They were better than good. Together, they were strong, centered and happy. He put out his hand for her. "Are you coming to bed?"

She nodded and threw the washcloth in the direction of the bathroom. He reached for her but she stayed out of his reach. His eyes glazed over when she put her arms behind her back to unfasten her bra. Her breasts tumbled free as she pulled the straps down her arms. He leaned up, grabbing for her.

"Stay," she ordered, stepping further back.

He growled but did as he was told. His eyes narrowed as he settled back into the pillows and watched her with laser focus. She pushed the panties down her hips and did a seductive little wiggle, causing the material to fall down to her ankles. He watched the fabric fall but didn't miss the small, satisfied smile that stretched across her lips before she bent her head.

He allowed her to put her knee up on the mattress before he lunged for her. She squeaked when he hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her into him, spooning her tightly into his body.

She glared at him. "You're supposed to take it easy."

"I'll take it easy now," he agreed, flipping the blanket up to cover them.

"I'll wake you in two hours," she reminded him.

"Okay." He snuggled deeper into her and savored her warmth. She fit against him perfectly, as though she had been custom made for him. His hands closed over the soft globes of her breasts and cupped their weight.

"Down boy," she murmured but covered his hands with her own, keeping them in place.

"Veronica, you know I'm not the dog, don't you?" Logan questioned.

She wiggled her bottom against him teasingly. "I don't know. You're more of a cuddler than Backup."

He groaned softly. "Keep that up and we're never going to sleep."

She giggled at that. It was such a sweet sound, almost carefree and girlish, something Veronica hadn't been allowed to be for a long time. It was the sound that followed him into his dreams.

Logan didn't know what woke him. One second he was asleep; warm, relaxed and comfortable. Then, suddenly, he was awake. He was aware of a vague soreness, both in his head and in his arm. The discomfort was there but it was dull and manageable, like a low-grade hangover. No, that wasn't what had woken him.

He lay still as he tried to work out the sense of unease. It was still dark but the moon was high enough to cast a cold glow into the room. Something warm brushed against his leg and everything snapped into focus. That's what had woken him. Veronica wasn't in his arms. He rolled over, reaching for her.

She was sleeping on her side with her back to him, the blanket clutched under her chin in a child-like gesture. He pushed the blanket aside and bared the smooth expanse of her back. Her fetal position emphasized the delicate bones of her rib cage and vertebras of her spine. She had a beautiful spine; strong, flexible and resilient.

He ran his hand along the length of her back, enjoying the feel of her silky soft skin. Their warm cocoon of bedding had sharpened her musky scent. There was no more perfume and powder, no more artifice between them. That female essence that was purely Veronica called to him and his body, already tuned into her scent, responded.

He put his hand on her shoulder and gently rolled her onto her back. She looked so young, almost innocent, with sleep stripping her of her makeup and defenses. He tugged at the blanket and pulled it out of her unresisting fingers. Her hands unclenched from under her chin and she put out her arms, elongating herself in a full body stretch.

His cock jerked and he chucked softly. She was so alive and vibrant that, even in sleep, she drew him like a moth to the irresistible flame. But she wasn't going to burn him again. She was here, in his bed, in his life and she wanted to be with him. She wanted _him_.

And he most definitely wanted her. Not just for that alchemy that turned their lovemaking into the powerful connection that stripped away all their defensive barriers. It went deeper than that. Veronica believed there was goodness in him, that he would _instinctively_ be a good man. A man she could be proud of.

A man she could love.

He leaned over and brushed her mouth, very lightly, in just a fleeting kiss. Her lips twitched in response. He jerked his head back in surprise. She was asleep and the kiss had barely connected but she still responded to it? How could she be that responsive to such a faint touch?

He brushed his mouth over hers again with a little more pressure this time. Her lips twitched again but this time she also puckered them. It was an invitation he couldn't ignore. He shifted closer and pressed a series of soft baby kisses to her still-puckered lips.

She began to move restlessly, shifting closer to him. He watched, fascinated, as she began to touch herself. Her fingers slid along her own body; over the slopes of her breasts, across the smooth expanse of her belly, down her firm thighs. His gaze darted to her face. She was still asleep but her eyelids were fluttering and her breathing had lost its easy cadence.

He dropped his head to her throat, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses down the length of her neck. His tongue brushed along the fragrant skin, leaving a path of wetness and goose bumps in his wake. She shifted and rubbed her thighs together, her movements still instinctive and unguarded.

Her lush pink lips parted and she moaned softly. "Logan?"

The jolt of fierce pride that lanced through him was almost painful. She was asleep but she still knew it was him. Was it his scent that she recognized or his touch? Or maybe she was dreaming of them making love. Her body wasn't awake yet but she was already aroused.

Her soft round breasts with their tightening peaks beckoned him. He shifted down her body, careful to keep his weight balanced on his uninjured arm. He was closer to her center now and could smell the moist heat her body was generating. How much longer before she broke to consciousness? His mouth settled onto her breast.

"My God," she gasped and pulled away from him.

He looked up the length of her body, his mouth still open and rounded. She had pulled herself up on her elbows and was staring at him in confused arousal.

"You're awake." He leaned forward and dropped a kiss on her wet nipple. "Did you have a good dream?"

"Wh…what time is it?" she stammered, running her hand through her hair, trying to reorient herself.

He didn't even bother to look at the clock. "Time for another trip to heaven." He kissed her other nipple.

"Heaven?" she repeated, still groggy.

"You did just call me God," he reminded her. His next kiss fell in the shadowed valley between her breasts.

She was now fully awake. "In your dreams."

"Actually, it was in _your _dream." Now he kissed her just above her belly button.

Veronica lifted herself into a sitting position and flipped on the bedside light. He blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the brightness.

"Are you okay?" She leaned forward and cupped his cheek. "How's your vision? Is it blurry or are you seeing double?"

His gaze dropped to her naked breasts, glowing gold in the lamplight. He reached out and grazed her nipple. "I'm seeing double but there's nothing wrong with my vision."

"How many fingers am I holding up?" She held up her hand, using her index and middle fingers to make a 'peace' sign.

He caught her hand in his and brought it to his mouth. Locking his gaze with hers, he thrust his tongue into the juncture of her fingers and waggled it suggestively.

"Logan," she admonished and pulled her fingers away. "Be serious."

"I am being serious," he insisted. "I am seriously trying to get lucky."

He leaned closer and tried to kiss her again. She put her hands on his chest to stop him.

"Can't you stop thinking of sex for one minute?" she demanded.

He snorted. "Hey, the girl of my dreams is naked in my bed. I'm concussed, not dead."

She frowned and held him at arm's length. "You're definitely feeling better. That silver tongue is working."

He tried again for a kiss. "Come a little closer and I'll really work my tongue."

He waggled his eyebrows in a comically imitation of a leer. But she didn't even smile. Her expression remained serious and sober.

"Please," she said quietly. "I just want to be sure that you're okay."

"I'm okay. I really am." It was sweet of her to be so worried about him. But he had taken much harder blows and survived to fight another day.

"Prove it," she insisted.

"Finally." He caught her wrists and pulled her arms around his waist. She tumbled against his chest and immediately began to wiggle free.

"No, I mean I want you to prove your _head_ is fine," she protested.

He enjoyed the feel of her naked skin rubbing against his. "My head's more than fine. In fact, it's anxious."

She stopped wriggling to glare at him. "I meant your _other_ head, the one you're supposed to be thinking with."

Logan relented. "Okay, okay. My brain is fine," he said soothingly. "I know my name, I know where I am, I know you have three freckles on your left breast but only two on your right." He touched each freckle to prove he knew where they were, even in the dim glow. Then he looked up, directly into her eyes. "And I know you're the love of my life."

She was still for a moment then her concerned expression faded into a happy grin. "Well, it seems you still have your intelligence."

"I've got more than intelligence." He grinned back at her. This time she didn't protest when he pulled her down onto the rumpled bed. "This time I got it right."


End file.
